Chapter 2: Distraction

Disclaimer: Despite my constant begging, the CW won't sell me the rights to the boys. Oh well...

Lebanon, Kansas

Present Day

Dean slammed the beer bottle on the table. Six months. It has been six months since Sam disappeared, and he was not one freaking step closer to finding him. Sam could be dead. He was probably dead. He probably died alone among demons, with Lucifer laughing at his pain. The thought alone made Dean clench his fists, and anger rose inside of him. The fury woke a dark force inside of him, a feeling that he hadn't felt since-well, let's not talk about that time.

The anger left him almost as soon as it came. He was too tired to get mad. He was too desperate. At the beginning, right after Sam disappeared, he had felt an uncontrollable rage inside of himself. He'd torn through book after book, called every hunter he knew, searched everywhere. But it was nothing but dead ends. After he realized that all of the leads were road blocks, he started tearing apart the Bunker, trying to vent his anger. Then, when the anger was gone and Sam still wasn't back, he started losing hope. Any hope he had then was gone now. Now all he wanted to do was find Sam's body. All he wanted to do was bring his little brother home.

He should be here, Dean thought. Sam should be right here, next to me, where he belongs.

Suddenly out of the still quiet of the Bunker, Dean's phone rang. Dean felt a small rush of hope and anticipation as he looked at the caller ID, only to have it diminish almost immediately. It wasn't Sam.

Pressing the talk button, Dean held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Jody. Any news?"

A voice filled with sympathy came through the phone's speakers. "Sorry, Dean. I've been looking everywhere. Alex and Claire look for your brother regularly. They've turned the surrounding states inside-out. We've got nothin."

Dean sighed and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. "He's got to be somewhere, Jody. People don't disappear. Others just stop looking for them." Dean heard his brother's voice in his head as he said those words. I won't stop looking, Sammy, Dean promised, as much to himself as to Sam. I'll find you. I'll bring you home.

"You Winchesters are stubborn, I'll give you that. But you won't find Sam stuck in that bunker of yours."

Dean already knew what Jody was suggesting. "No. No hunting."

"Dean, its an easy hunt. A couple of vampires in Iowa. Nothing overwhelming."

"Not until I find Sam."

"You won't do Sam much good if you go brain dead from reading those books of yours. Go on a hunt. Kill a couple sons of bitches. Vent your anger. And then start looking for Sam again. It's been six months, Dean. You need a break."

Dean felt a small smile curl up the corners of his mouth. "You're not going to stop talking until I do it, are you?"

"Nope. You Winchesters may be stubborn, but I'm stubborn and determined."

"Fine, fine. But haven't you got any demons I could hunt? I'm looking for a little payback."

"There was a large nest of demons two states east of you, but a bunch of hunters already left to take care of those. Other than that, demon activity is eerily quiet. It's almost as if they're..."

"Waiting," Dean finished for her. "That would explain why Lucifer hasn't made his move yet. He's getting all his evil ducks in a row."

"Not exactly a comforting thought."Dean could tell she was a bit nervous. He quickly changed the subject.

"So, what was that vampire hunt?"

10 minutes later Dean was out the door of the bunker, information for the hunt in hand. Jody was right-it was a simple cut-and-dry vampire case, something that shouldn't be hard to take care of. Weapons packed in the back trunk of the Impala, he slid into the driver's seat. As he turned on the ignition and drove towards the main road, he tried to ignore the pit in his stomach as he felt the emptiness of the car, and the absence of the person who was supposed to be sitting in the passenger seat. He kept his eyes on the road, trying to concentrate on the hunt, but all he could think was, I'll find you, little brother. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll bring you home.

He shoved the emptiness he felt deep inside himself, put on a sad smile, and drove down the open road, AC/DC blasting through the speakers, cutting through the silence of the car. Little did Dean know that in fact, his little brother was much closer than he could have ever imagined.

-SPN-

Sam felt the excruciating pain as the knife slashed his chest, and as much as he wanted to scream, he bit his tongue . He wouldn't give the demons that satisfaction again. When he was first brought to his prison, his captors did all they could to hear his pained cries echo through the warehouse. They would laugh in his face and dare him to scream again. "Come on, little Sammy Winchester, do it again," the leader, a black-eyed bastard in the body of a muscular man, laughed. "This is the former boy king? The vessel for Lucifer? What a weak thing you are."

"Go to hell," Sam shot back for the millionth time in the past six months. He was beginning to wish that Lucifer had just killed him when he had kidnapped him all those months ago. Instead, Lucifer had brought Sam here, as close to hell as the place itself, and slowly tortured him to the point of near death. And it wasn't for information, either. When Sam had begged Lucifer to stop, Lucifer had just laughed in Sam's face and said, "Not so cocky now, are you, Sammy? You should've said yes."

The worse wasn't even the physical torture, but the mental torture. He had watched anyone he had ever loved die over and over again, in a million different ways. He saw Dean the most. Dean had died differently every time-sometimes it was fire, or a gunshot, or torture. Sometimes Sam had watched as Lucifer had carved into his older brother's skin, and sometimes Sam felt the knife in his own hands, moving under someone else's command, and no matter how much he screamed and begged for it to stop, it never did. At least not until Sam was on the floor sobbing and clutching his head.

Sometimes Dean was angry with Sam, and his green eyes would light with an uncontrollable fire. The fire would diminish and soon Dean's eyes would turn pleading, and he would look at Sam and silently beg for it to stop. And then, other times, Dean would look betrayed, like Sam had stabbed him in the back. Sam could tolerate that; he had seen that look on Dean's face before, and it was almost something normal, but still painful as hell. The worse was when Dean just accepted his fate. He would look at Sam with a look of total forgiveness, a compassionate glance that said everything, and it hurt more than any other torture the demons or Lucifer could inflict. However, no matter how each illusion started, they all ended the same-Dean's eyes going completely blank and his head falling limp.

The demons had held off on mental torture that day, though, and were currently opening up wounds that had scarred over months ago. He tried to focus on something other than the pain but found it difficult, as the pain was white-hot and blinding. He barely heard the sound of the door splintering into a million pieces, or the shouts of men or the sound of screaming. He felt a twinge of hope and he searched his dazed mind to place it somewhere, and did not realize what was happening until he felt his ropes being cut. He looked up and did not see one of his captors but the unfamiliar face of a man. The man was shouting something frantically, with enough power for it to be a command. Dean sounds like that sometimes, Sam thought. Suddenly it was not his own voice in his head but Dean's, saying, Listen. Listen to what he's trying to say. Sam knew a command when he heard one, and he strained to listen.

"Run," the man said as the ropes slid off Sam's wrists and ankles. "You've got to get out of here. We won't be able to hold off these demons for long." When Sam's legs stayed planted to the floor, the man said, "Go! What are you waiting for?"

He heard Dean's voice in his head again, telling to go as fast as possible. He heard gunfire all around him, but his vision tunneled as he spotted the door. Stumbling, he ran for the door, tripping every few steps. The demons would've never let him go this easily, if not for the many people, presumably hunters, attempting to clean out the place. The demons were overpowering them, though, and the battle was turning into bloodbath. Already three hunters and one demon lay dead on the floor, and bullets, no matter how useless they were against demons, were flying and ricocheting off the walls.

Two steps from the door and Sam felt a sharp pain pierce his shoulder. He cried out but didn't lose his balance. Dean's voice was screaming now. Go, Sammy! Run as fast as you can! Stay alive!

The last line not only kept Sam moving but encouraged him to pick up his pace.

Stay alive.

Sam pushed the door open and felt the cold air hit his chest. He ran into the forest, the pitch black night hiding him from the demons.

Stay alive.

He ran until he was on the verge of collapse, unaware of the sudden silence behind him, the words echoing in his head.

Stay alive, Sammy.

He felt the darkness threatening to overpower him, and he slumped against a tree, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

See you soon, little brother.

He slipped into unconsciousness with his brother's voice in his head.

TBC