A/N: This story takes place around two years before Dean went to Stanford to pick up Sam at Stanford. Next chapter will be posted in a few days.
The knife sank through easily, the minimal force Dean had to use this time caught him off guard. His arm was better now after all, he must have regained all his strength. Looking down at his bloody sleeve, he frowned. Son of a bitch. Not this shirt too, they weren't exactly rolling around in money. The sleeve must have ripped in the fall. He cursed under his breath as he poured some gas over the skinwalker. There hadn't been enough to time to make silver bullets; he had been forced to use the silver blade instead. Another thing for dad to complain about, add it to the freaking list. He lit one of the matches, seeing the corpse catch fire as soon as the match fell. The warmth was nice, the temperature was pretty chilly. Dean sighed as he loaded all the gear in the trunk. He knew what to expect once he got back to motel.
"Son, I'm disappointed in you. You know the risks. Always come prepared, yada yada yada…" He muttered bitterly, capturing the tone of his father's voice perfectly. Dean slammed the door of the impala shut after him. Before he turned the key in the ignition he cast a look at himself in rearview mirror. Adrenaline from the fight gave his eyes an alert look, he noticed. Blood had splattered up on his face. Absentmindedly he wiped it off. The thought formed before Dean could stop it. This was how it would be; it was what it meant to do this job. He knew how it would end. For now, the blood spilled would be the blood of the creatures that he put an end to. Until that spilled blood was his.
Pulling up at the motel, he saw John's wary face peering through the window of their room, pushing the stained curtain aside. He gave him a curt nod before letting it fall. Dean sighed before getting out, he probably wouldn't get much free time before the next hunt.
"Everything went ok?" John asked. Dean shut the door, careful not to break the salt line. He shrugged indifferently.
"Son of a bitch's dead, one less problem in this place." John hummed in agreement, eyes landing on Dean's ripped and bloodied sleeve. Dean scolded himself for not changing his shirt before getting back here.
"I see you didn't use bullets." The disapproving tone was enough for Dean's eyes to fall to the ground.
"Yeah, well we were out. Had to use a knife. I know, dad. You don't have to say it, it was stupid, I should have checked first." Dean sat down on his bed, the one furthest from the door. For a brief second he saw Sammy sitting there, researching on his laptop. This was always his bed after all. The image disappeared as quickly as it had come, Sam's absence once again heavy on Dean's shoulders. He pushed the thought of his little brother away, he knew it wouldn't make a difference anyway. Sam was the one who had chosen to leave.
"It's okay. You won't make the same mistake again." Dean swallowed the snort that came out of nowhere, did his dad really think that was supposed to be reassuring? Wanting to avoid John's eyes on him, he got up and shut the door of the bathroom behind him.
"So there might be a potential case in Superior, Wisconsin. A few people have committed suicide within a strange pattern, one every six months…are you hearing me Dean?" Dean tore his eyes away from the waitress he'd been staring at, meeting his father's gaze guiltily. He cleared his throat and scratched his neck while trying to remember what John had just said.
"Sorry, uhm, yeah. People gone missing, suspicious pattern, right?" John's brown eyes looked tired as he nodded.
"Yes, but I'm thinking there might a possible ghost case up in Spokane, people describing what I can only imagine to be ectoplasm. Have you checked online for any other potential case?" Dean opened his mouth before closing it again.
"I just got back from the skinwalker hunt, I haven't had any time, dad- "John held his hand up.
"Check now then, your laptop's here." Dean nodded, pushing the computer to his left as the waitress came with their food.
"Two burgers, extra cheese." Dean's stomach rumbled as she put his plate down.
"Thanks, sweetheart." Dean said, winking up at her before she left. She smiled back before pushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. John sighed before dipping a fry into his ketchup.
"You just can't help yourself can you?" Dean's eyes widened with feigned innocence.
"No idea what you're talking about." He took a bite of his burger, reveling in the delicious taste. Reluctantly, he opened the laptop and turned it on. He knew it'd take a few minutes to boot up so he got back to his food.
"Dean, you're 24, you don't have to inhale your food." Dean put his burger back down with an annoyed glare at John whose nose was buried in his newspaper.
"Yes sir." Dean muttered. Did the guy ever have a good day without a pissy mood? Dean searched for any possible cases on the laptop, looking through news websites. With the occasional theft and murder here and there Dean couldn't see anything that would be of interest to them. After a few minutes his eyes caught on a headline on a website focused on the west coast. Students gone missing at campus, three more this month. Dean clicked on the link, eyes narrowing in concentration.
The police are clueless as to what is happening at Stanford University, Palo Alto CA. As of yet five students have been reported missing, the latest three just this April. The president of Stanford University is asking people to alert the police if they know anything and to pray for the students and their families… "There are no clues to what could have happened since there have been no signs of struggle in any of the cases," police officer Mark Robertson says… Dean slowly looked up from the laptop, as if John knew what he'd just read. He took a breath and picked up his burger again. Dean knew he couldn't ignore this, it was Stanford. If there was something going on there, Sam could be in danger. He also knew that he couldn't mention this to his father. Every time Dean mentioned Sam to him his expression darkened. Dean knew that he was constantly worried about his youngest son but he wouldn't let the fight they'd had when Sam had left go, it still upset him, 1.5 year later. Dean's stomach churned, appetite gone out the window. Worry now clouded his mind, mixed with anxiety. He had to get there and soon. It would take about two days, he estimated.
"Anything?" John asked, bringing Dean back to the diner. Dean shook his head no.
"Nothing that seems relevant, no. I could check out the thing in Wisconsin if you'd rather go to Spokane." Dean was surprised at how believable his own voice sounded considering the circumstances. John pondered for a minute before setting the paper down.
"You sure? I need you to be ca- "
"Careful, yes I know, dad. I'm nothing if not careful." John looked like he was ready to disagree but decided not to.
"I want daily updates okay? Don't do anything stupid." Dean nodded earnestly at his father's stern tone. Dammit. With the lie he'd just told, he would have to fake working the case in Wisconsin. He could send another hunter though, but he wasn't sure that John wouldn't find out.
"Alright, we should get back to the motel before we split up." John got up, leaving a twenty on the table before heading out. Dean packed up his things, closing the laptop but not before giving the article a last glance. A part of him was excited to get to be close to Sam again but the sadness he felt cut the excitement short. Sam couldn't know he was there; he wouldn't want Dean there anyway. With the way the three of them had left things, Dean was sure Sam wouldn't want to speak to him at all.