Disclaimer: I do not own SPN. Sorry.

Note: So...I was listening to a song earlier today and this idea just popped into my head. If you can guess the name of the song, a plus to you! Not that it would take much detective skills. Anywho, I'll get on to the story. I already have the outline laid out and know exactly what will be happening. I already have most of the next chapter done. I apologize for the shortness and I promise there will not be a chapter under 2k words because that's just not how I operate. I refuse to post anything under that limit. I strive for at least 4, but sometimes that just doesn't happen. Hope you like the story!

Chapter 1

His fingers slid along the keys, punctuating the air with every note. He wasn't aware he had an audience. He was too wrapped up in the harmonies and melodies to pay attention to anything else. He gave everything he had into his songs, even if he didn't have anything left of himself to give.

He didn't have any of the lyrics done yet. He wasn't exactly sure what there was for him to say. All he had was one verse to go on. One verse to carry him through to the end. That was the million dollar question. Where did it end? When did it end? He knew he was being overly dramatic as they kept telling him, but his heart had been ripped from his chest and pummeled repeatedly. He figured he was due a bit of drama. Such as: what was the point to all of this anymore? Was his life worth living now that she was gone? Would his life end when he found the words to complete the song? Could he survive that long?

She had been everything to him. They had met so many years ago, falling in love almost instantly. He'd never believed in love at first sight until he'd met her. He didn't anymore. It had all been a lie. Had she ever really loved him or had it all been a lie from the beginning? He couldn't look at himself in the mirror anymore for fear of seeing a completely different person than the one he'd known all his life.

He knew he should sing a few sad songs, down a couple of bottles of whiskey, get laid, and then get over it. Move on to the next person. But how do you really do that? How do you just move past such a betrayal? How do you trust anyone ever again, let alone yourself.

These were questions he asked himself every day, every hour, every time he didn't have something to focus on. He asked himself what his life meant. He asked himself what his life was worth. The past seven years of his life had been a lie, in more ways than one. He'd lost so many people in his life at once that his heart constantly felt like it would give out on him, leaving him sprawling on the floor lifeless for someone to find.

"Dean, man, you gotta stop moping around here and do something with yourself. Jo tells me you hardly leave the house still. I know she's fully capable of taking care of the shop, but…you gotta do something with yourself."

Dean's fingers stilled. His eyes closing, squeezing shut. He heard the same rant every day for the past week. The first two weeks, they let him do his thing, hoping he'd come around on his own. When that hadn't been the case, the family had tried to do an intervention, but that hadn't worked too well. Dean had thrown around his usual excuses, refusing to listen to any of them. He knew they were only trying to help and he appreciated it, he did, but he just couldn't bring himself to back to the shop yet. After all, that's where he'd received the news that had devastated his entire world.

"I know this has been hard on you. I can't even imagine what you've gone through or if I would even handle it better, but…everyone's worried about you, man. It's not like you to just completely shut down like this. I know it's a lot to handle, but you don't have to handle it alone. We're all here for you, Dean. We just want to help."

"How can you help, Sam? Is there some magical button you can push to make it all go away? Do you have a time machine somewhere so I can go back and not meet her, somehow change what happened? Is there some drug I can take to erase what happened from my mind? No? Well, then you can't really help then, can you?"

Sam sighed. "Dean…Maybe if you got out of the house, go see some of your friends, go for a run, stop by the shop for a couple of hours, do some of the things you love to do, maybe it'll help."

"I am doing what I love. I'm writing a song, aren't I?"

Another sigh. "Dean, I've heard you working on that song for the past week. It's not like you to have this much trouble, especially not when it comes to lyrics. Usually, the lyrics are all written down and all you have to do is come up with the notes. I haven't heard a single word that goes with those notes."

Dean finally turned around on the piano bench and stared at his little brother. "I'm just off my game. The words will come to me. Besides, I have a verse done. I just don't want to add to it until I have more."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean. You've been repeating that melody for a week now with no words to accompany it. That's not the point though. The point is that you need to get out of the house and do something other than sit here and play the same chords over and over again. You're going to waste your life away sitting there. If you don't do something at the shop, you're going to lose it. Jo can't keep it running alone forever. Then you're going to lose the house and be out on the streets. What the hell are you going to do then, huh? Play an imaginary piano? Take it with you? You can't live like this, Dean! This isn't you!"

Dean stood, staring him down. "What the hell do you care, Sam? I didn't see you warning me about what was going on. I didn't see you trying to help me through it the first two weeks after it happened. Everyone steered clear of me for the first two weeks before suddenly trying to 'help'. Well, you know what? I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. There's not a single person I trust anymore enough to help me. How can I trust anyone after that? I damn well know you wouldn't if it had happened to you. We both do. You would shut me out too. You would escape into your own little world too."

Sam's shoulders drooped the slightest bit. "Dean, I'm just trying-."

"To help. Yeah, I got that, Sam. You sure have been doing a bang up job of it lately. I'm done, Sam. I can't do it anymore. I'm sick of everything. I'm sick of being here. I'm sick of everyone tiptoeing around me. I'm sick of the betrayal. I'm sick of all of this. So everyone can go back to their lives and forget all of this happened, okay? You tell everyone to stop worrying about me because it won't matter anymore."

He grabbed his jacket and his keys and started towards the door. Sam whirled on him. "What the hell does that mean, Dean?! Killing yourself isn't the answer and you know that! What did you used to say? That killing yourself was the coward's way out? Look who's the coward now! That has never been who you are and you know it."

Dean shrugged off his words, but stopped before he shut the door behind him. He turned halfway towards his brother with a sad look in his eye. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I guess I'm not the man you wanted me to be."

The door clicked shut behind him. He slipped into the driver's seat of his impala, turned the key, and allowed himself a moments pleasure as his baby roared to life. He listened to her purr for a brief few seconds before slipping her into reverse, backing out of the driveway, and leaving his home for what he planned to be the last time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam run out of the front door, yelling and waving his arms at him, trying to make him stop. He only pressed down harder on the gas, leaving his little brother behind with silent tears running down both of their faces.

SPN

Sam watched as the taillights of the impala disappeared from view. He couldn't believe what was happening. If Dean even knew what he had done for him…

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Jo's number. It only rang twice before her drawl came over the line.

"Hey, Sam, what's up? Any luck with Big Brother?"

A soft sob finally worked its way up his throat and out from under his self-control. "Jo…he's doing it. I never thought he would, but he is."

He could practically visualize her sitting up straighter, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "For real? Are you with him? What happened?"

"When I got to the house, he was playing the piano like he always does anymore. I listened for a while, but finally interrupted him. I tried to talk some sense into him, tell him he needed to get out of the house for a bit, but we got into an argument. He ended up grabbing his keys and leaving. He said he's sick of everything and to tell everyone to stop worrying about him, that it won't matter anymore."

"Oh my God…"

"Before he walked out the door, he turned back to me and said, 'I'm sorry. I guess I'm not the man you wanted me to be.' I chased after him, but he was already gone. He took the impala and left."

"Sam, we need to call the police. Have them send out some kind of APB for him or something, tell them he's a risk to himself. I don't care what the hell we tell them, but we need to have someone out there looking for him."

"Okay. You make the call. I'm headed your way."

"Okay, Sam. You drive carefully, okay? We don't need to lose two brothers tonight."

The entire way to the shop, Sam couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said to Dean. Maybe if he'd been gentler with his words or chosen different ones. Maybe if he'd pushed harder sooner or just let it go when Dean kept resisting. He'd only been trying to help his brother get over everything that had happened. It had been horrible, more than that. He couldn't possibly imagine how Dean was feeling. He didn't want to know how Dean was feeling. In all honestly, Dean was handling it better than he could have been. Or…was handling it better. He could have been spending all his time inside a whiskey bottle or at a strip club, running a risk of catching something, but all he'd done was sit at his piano for hours on end working on the same song repeatedly.

It had been like something inside of him had just snapped and he didn't have the energy to do anything besides play that damned piano. He was grateful his method of coping had been healthier than the alternatives, until now.

He wasn't entirely sure if Dean would go through with it or not. He'd never seen that look in his brother's eye before and he never wanted to see it again. The thought that he may never see his brother again to see that look in them brought on a fresh wave of tears sliding down his cheeks. He had never been the emotional type, never cried over anything besides when he got his heart broken or when he broke his arm in third grade. The thought of losing his brother forever scared him to no end. Dean was the only family he had left after everything that had happened. He couldn't lose him. He never wanted to lose him.

Pulling into the parking lot, Sam got out of his car and walked into the recording studio that Dean owned. He was a recording artist and one of the best. A lot of people came from great distances just to work with Dean. The past three weeks they'd had to settle with Jo, but a lot of their regular clients were getting upset with paying to have Dean record their albums and having to settle for someone else. Jo was great at it, but she wasn't Dean. They had others working their too, but it just wasn't the same.

Sam found her in Dean's office, talking on the phone with someone he presumed to be the police. She looked up and saw the tear tracks on his cheeks. He noticed the same on her own. They were all emotionally distraught over this turn in events. None of them had seen it coming.

She hung up the phone and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "They're sending out search teams to look for him. I gave them the plate number for the impala, so they're issuing an APB for it. They said they'd contact us if they find anything."

Sam nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "Jo…what are we going to do?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know."

What'd you think? New chapter up soon!