CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE WAYWARD SOUL

CHAPTER 1

Ring, ring

"Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Smith. Yes sir, I'm sorry I think I've misplaced the directions could you give me the address again." Dean picks up a napkin and pen sitting beside him in the car and starts to write. "uh huh, yes sir. We'll check it out. Okay thank you."

Click

"Who was that?" Sam asked.

"It was a self-storage facility. They said Dad's storage room has been broken into and I was his contact number."

Sam looked at Dean, confused about what he said. "Storage room?"

"Yeah, I didn't know about it either. Looks like we're changing paths, Sammy, let's go check it out."

The boys made a u turn and headed to the address Dean was given on the phone. Once they arrived at the location, they found a room that had a white garage door that had been bent at the bottom, with a broken lock.

"Mr. Smith?" the voice from the phone said, they turned to see a man walking in their direction.

"Yes sir" Dean said turning toward the man.

"I'm sorry about this inconvenience, I don't think anything was taken, it doesn't appear they were able to get into the room. There have been several break ins in the area lately." The man explained.

"Okay, we'll check it out, thank you." Replied Dean. The man walked away and the boys walked into the room.

They were shocked to see the belongings in there. It was a personal storage unit. Inside they found Sammy's basinet that he used as a baby, inside it, his blanket and favorite teddy bear. As they looked around Dean saw his blanket, his 'blankie', tucked away on a shelf. There were family pictures, baby clothes. This storage room held memories. Memories of the life they lived. Memories of their child hood. Memories of their mom. It appeared, as though, when they moved from the home that their mom burned in, their dad had stored all the important belongings in this storage room, or perhaps it was the only belongings left.

The boys looked around the room, shocked by the items their dad had been storing. Most of it, Sam didn't remember, but Dean reminisced as he ran his hand across the boxes and belongings sitting on the shelves, stopping to read the labels of belongings on the boxes. Family albums, birth certificates, wedding items. There was a box labeled 'Mary's clothing'. Dean paused to open the lid, he shifted through the clothing items, remembering some of them as clothing his mom had worn. He then continued to observe the stored items. He stopped when he saw a box labeled 'journals'.

"Sam," Dean spoke. "What do you think Dad would say if he knew we found out about this room?"

"Well," Sam replied, "He did put you down as a contact so I'd guess he would expect we find out about it sooner or later."

While Sam spoke, Dean pulled the box of journals off the shelf. Giving Sam a look of approval, "what do you think he would say about this?" Dean asked, showing Sam the label on the box.

"Journals?" Sam said, surprised.

"Yeah, that's what it says." Dean answered as he sat the box on the floor, sitting beside it. He opened the lid, a little hesitant. Sam sat beside him, equally as curious about the contents the box held. Dean reached in and picked up one of the journals from the box, looking at the dates first, picking up the one with the earliest date.

Dean began to read it out loud. It started with the memories of days after Mary's death. It was filled with his heartache and pain.

"I'm not sure what to do without her. I need her, our boys need her. She did so much to take care of this family. She held this family together. I haven't raised the boys, Mary has. Thankfully, Dean was smart enough to always want to help with his little brother. He has helped me, showed me things I didn't know about taking care of baby Sam."

Honestly, Dean was a little shocked to see his dad call him smart. He didn't think his dad ever noticed what he had done for Sammy, but he did, at least a little.

"He is so cute, he looks so much like my Mary. God, I miss her. I miss her so much. I know Dean misses her too. He won't say he does. He tries not to cry but, I've heard him cry, silently, sometimes at night and sometimes in the bathroom when he showers. That kid is so strong! He's stronger than I could ever be. He has done so much, keeping me and baby Sam held together."

The boys continued to read, each of them having different passages catching their attention. Dean noticing all the good things John had to say about him, things he had never heard before. Sam, filling the curiosity of his childhood. They both sat on the floor of the storage room, reading the words their dad had written, his heart, his soul, in their hands, written out in black and white.

"Today was a hard day. I met with some hunters today. I still don't completely understand everything that's going on, but I'm learning. I hate that I leave the boys alone for so long, but Dean does good taking care of Sam. He's grown up so fast. Mary would be proud of them both. We'll be celebrating Sam's first birthday soon. It won't be much of a celebration, not without their mom."

There appeared to be water spots on the paper, perhaps dried tears. "Dean had a birthday too. I can't believe he's 5 already. I've taught him how to shoot a gun and use a knife properly. I had to. I had to make sure he's able to take care of Sam. The kid picked it up fast, he's a natural at it. He does good taking care of him, but it's overwhelming, sometimes, with both the boys. Sam, I can understand Sam crying but Dean, he always complains about stupid shit. It gets on my nerves."

Sam couldn't miss the change in Dean's tone as he continued to read. "I couldn't handle it today when I got home after the long meeting with the hunters, Dean was bitching about something stupid, complaining about being hungry or some shit like that. Couldn't that kid see how tired I was? How stressed I was? I may have taken it a little too far. But he wouldn't make Sam stop crying. I told him several times to shut him up but he wouldn't. All I heard was a bunch of excuses, all the reasons why he couldn't make him stop. He made me so mad!"

Dean remembered this day and his hands trembled with his voice as he read. "I jumped off the bed and I backhanded him harder than I meant to. I didn't mean to hit him hard enough to make him fall to the floor, but he quit his damn bitching! I picked Sam up, and told Dean to dry his eyes and make his brother a bottle. I sat on the bed, holding my baby boy. He is so cute. He is the thing that keeps me going, the light in this dark life. I fed him the bottle Dean fixed and he fell asleep in my arms. His sweet little hands, tiny fingers. He has his mom's nose, and her smile. I fell asleep admiring his adorableness. It's so comforting holding my youngest son in my arms."

Sam noticed the growing sadness filling Dean's eyes as they took turns reading the passages in their dad's journal. Partly, Dean missed his mom all over again, but partly he missed his dad. The dad he used to know, his real dad, not the drill Sargant he became. His dad's words had gone from admiring how much Dean put into the family, how much he helped, how strong he was, how smart he was, to not mentioning him at all, only concentrating on Sammy.

"Sam walked today. I can't believe how big he's getting. He looks so cute wobbling around. He still hasn't figured out how to keep his balance without wobbling. Man, I love that little boy. I couldn't imagine my life without him. There's no wrong that baby could ever do. He's filled with so much innocence."

"Dean pissed me off again today, seems that's all that kid does anymore. His dumb ass woke me up. I've been hunting the past couple days, all I wanted to do was take a nap, I don't understand how that kid can't understand something so simple. He's just going to have to learn how to be more obedient. How to follow my orders better. I swear, I'll beat the lessons in him if that's what it takes. It does him good. It teaches him character. It helps him learn to be strong, he's going to need that on hunts. He has to be strong to be able to protect Sammy."

After sitting and reading through the first journal the words swirling in Dean's head had become too much. "Hey Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"How about we take these back to a room, and grab some food, I'm getting hungry."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, followed by "Sounds good to me."

The boys put the journal back in the box, covering it with the lid, they retrieved a new lock from the trunk of their car, closing the door to the room and securing it with the lock. They placed the box of books in the back seat and headed down the road.

They found a local bar that Dean decided to stop at. After ordering some food and having a couple rounds of drinks, Dean was beginning to feel better, happier, more like his normal self. He played some darts and flirted with the bar tender. Sam, getting tired of being at the bar, ready to head to a room, had to drag Dean out of the bar. He was lit already, but insisted they stop at a liquor store before getting a room. Sam didn't question it, he pulled into the parking lot to allow his brother his normal night of drinking.

He knew he was heartbroken from all the things they had read, and seeing the room full of memories. They have had a rough past couple month, both of them, but especially Dean, he has been on the biggest emotional rollercoaster of his life. He had opened up himself to Sammy like never before, gave him way more information about their lives than he ever expected. Now, sitting in the back seat of the impala, was a box filled with more memories, more heartaches.

After making his purchase Dean returned to the car, ready to get a room for the night. Sam insisted on driving even though Dean was sure he was sober enough to drive, Sam wasn't going to hear it and took the keys from Dean while he was flirting with the bartender at the bar. Dean was a little sour about it, but let his brother have his way. Sam stopped at a nearby motel, stepping inside to pay for a room and returning to the car with the key, finding Dean sitting in the seat, shades on, even though the sun was down, a bottle of Jack opened and half-drunk before Sam could get a room and return. He just shook his head. He hated when Dean drank the way he did. He had told Dean this before, but tonight Dean didn't seem to care.

Once inside, they dropped their bags at the door and sat the box on the bed closest to the door, Dean's bed. Dean kicked his boots off and stretched out on the bed, propped against the wall, his mostly drunk bottle of Jack in hand.

"I'm going to take a shower." Sam announced.

"Whatever you want." Dean replied.

Sam gathered his belongings and went into the bathroom to shower and put on some clean boxers and shirt for bed. Dean, stretched out on the bed, finishing his bottle of booze, staring at the box that was sitting at his feet. He had gotten up to retrieve the bottles he got at the store, sat them beside him, figuring there was no point in only grabbing one bottle at a time since he had plans on drinking everything he had bought.

His dad's words swirling around in his head. Everything good he had to say about his little brother. He knew Sam was his favorite, but to see it, in writing, only gave him proof that he was right. Dean used to be Dad's favorite. He used to be his one and only. They had always been close. Dad did so much with him, before Sammy was born, before Mom died, before he became a hunter instead of a father. He didn't realize Sam had finished his shower and came back into the room. He had almost finished his second bottle, still staring at the box on the bed.

"Dean?"

"Huh?"

"You think you've had enough to drink?" Sam asked, knowing he was already drunk before leaving the bar.

"Damn, Sammy, why can't you ever just let me be?" Dean replied, irritated that his brother would always point out how much he drank, just like Dad, always pointing out the things he didn't approve of. Sam just rolled his eyes, not wanting to get into an argument over it, he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You gonna take a shower?"

"In the morning."

Sam sat in silence for a moment before asking "You wanna read anymore, of… the journals, tonight?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean said, opening the box, pulling out the journal dated after the first one they had read, he tossed it to Sammy, "You read it, my vision is a little blurry". Sam agreed, Dean had to be feeling hammered by now, even though he kept drinking. Cracking open his next bottle, Dean settled back against the wall to listen to the words Sammy read.