This is set after Season Five. If Sam never came back, how would Dean cope? This is in three parts so stick around! Next part should be up tomorrow because it's being written now. Warnings to come! Enjoy ^^
Three Hours Earlier
The warehouse stood alone. The surrounding area covered in rusty iron slats and old car pieces. No one came here; this was obvious by the lack of road leading towards the derelict building. Instead, any driver wishing to risk his cars life would have to make his own tracks through the field. This was exactly what Dean Winchester was doing. His beloved baby was grinding her way through the mud and grass, the occasional metal piece flying up from beneath her wheels, making Dean wince and talk softly to her. He couldn't go back now, aside from the fact he'd made it three quarters of the way across the field, this was the only lead he'd had in four years and he'd die before he missed it.
It's been four years since the Apocalypse. Four years since Lucifer took Sam down with him. Four years since Dean felt any emotion other than pain. Dean had tried everything. No crossroads demon would deal with him, the angels had fled back to heaven and praying to Castiel wasn't an option anymore. The angel had made it clear he was never coming back and Dean had long since tried to contact him. Cas was gone, taking what was left of Dean's heart with him. The first year had housed the most pain. Dean had first been staying with Bobby who, god love him, had tried his hardest to pick him up. But it was too late, Sam's death had affected Dean far too much and the void he was in could not be touched. Cas was the only constant in his life and after he left Dean shut down completely. Bobby tried and tried until it finally got too much, he told Dean to go and get back into hunting and he gave him jobs and leads any chance he got. He needed the boy to be out there and not have to come home to him passed out on the couch everyday, alcohol stained and exhausted. Dean knew Bobby was worried about him, he was worried about himself but he had nothing to live for anymore. Still, he took the cases he was given, he followed the leads up. He didn't know how long he could stand it though, knocking on a stranger's door without his brother beside him. Only having to create one fake ID and only needing one suit dry-cleaned. It was rare if Dean made it one day without wanting to scream. Scream for Sam, scream for his pain, scream for Cas to get his ass back down and hold him again. Instead he drowned his pain in alcohol, downing shot after shot in shady bars, not making eye contact with anyone. He slept in the car because he couldn't deal with only asking for one bed, he tried to ask for two once but waking up and seeing an empty bed was worse than seeing no bed at all. He left not long after that, vowing to sleep in his car from now on. It was uncomfortable and meant waking up with stiff muscles everyday but he didn't care, not anymore. It had been like this that Dean had been living for the past four years. Hunting without caring was something he was used to now and he usually took his time getting to and from places, what's the rush? People died all the time.
Three hours ago, everything changed. Dean was driving down a deserted road, these were his favourite, he could do what he liked and no one could stop him. If he crashed, well, who cares? His phone lit up, Led Zeppelin blaring out, scaring him for a second. He pulled over, answering much too late, only to find out it was Bobby. Dean cursed mentally, sometimes the man needed to take a break.
"Dean, listen to me. I might have a lead for you."
Dean stopped breathing, "You…a what?"
"Yeah, for real, Crowley's here…."
Dean frowned slightly, why was Crowley at Bobby's? Better yet, why was Bobby listening to him?
"Are you even listening! Ow..fuck, what are you…?"
Dean was completely confused, he felt like he was being drunk dialled by Bobby. This wouldn't be the first time.
"Dean, it's Crowley. Listen to me, I know I haven't been any help in the past four years but, men gotta work right. And damn it have I been busy, you should see France, I'll take you one day, beautiful place. Anyhoo, there's a demon called Pyro I think you might like to meet…."
Crowley went on to tell Dean where he'd be and when but he barely listened. He had a lead, a lead for Sammy. This could be it and fuck did he drive.
So it was this that led to his baby churning her way through mud and upon reaching the other side and seeing the mess he almost regretted it. She could handle it though, he knew this, she was tough as nails and a bit of mud is like a spa treatment for her. That's what Dean told himself anyway, when he glanced sadly at his beat up car. "For Sammy" he though, before heading towards the warehouse doors. His heart was beating far too fast and he was afraid it would crash through his rib cage if he didn't take a minute. He stopped just outside the door and pressed his ear up against it. If his lifetime of hunting had taught him anything – it's to always try and judge what you're going into before you charge in. Silence was all he could hear and where demon's were concerned this wasn't a good sign. He placed his hand on the handle and slowly began opening the door, taking a deep breath he stepped inside. Adjusting his eyes to dark he just had time to see a rather large elbow heading his way, there was no time to move as it connected with his head, he crumbled to the floor with just enough time to think, "Shit" then he was out.