Chapter 2

"Irremediably, little by little, the distance between them became an insurmountable abyss."

― Zøe Haslie, Just For A While

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TWO DAYS AGO...

Dean was back. He was back, for real this time, yet, he could not believe it. So many days he had hoped for this moment to come, even planning the words he was gonna say to him. He wanted to be by Dean's side, but the silence in the room consumed his will to talk or interact at all. Sam had practically grown up seeing his big brother as a fatherly/motherly figure since... forever. He could always sense what his brother felt, he could always comfort him, so why couldn'the speak right now? Why did he, suddenly, felt uncomfortable and wanted to run away from his family, his blood?

Dean was a mess, avoiding Sam's pleading eyes, that with a silent scream, begged for him to do something, anything.

Mary had left them alone in Dean's room, where the elder Winchester was sitting in the opposite side of the bed, his fingers playing nervously with the bed's cover, twisting it, making its molecules crash between them, almost as if he could destroy his memories in the process.

"Dean" said Sam, almost whispering his name, his lips feeling heavy and unfamiliar with calling his brother's name. Four long weeks passed since he last said his name. Four weeks passed since he actually talked at all, at least when it was not necessary to do so. Sam wanted to continue talking, but he couldn't make out the words that wanted to be freed from his tormented mind.

Dean didn't say anything, didn't move or flinch. He looked like a damn statue.

"I know that this is- Dean... We will get through this, okay?" said Sam, this time a little louder. He got closer to Dean, wanting to touch his shoulder, but his brother's response made him back up. Dean had distanced himself from him again, moving farther, almost making his body fit in the tight space between the bed and the night table. It seemed that they were miles apart from each other, when they were hardly fifty centimeters away from touching their bodies.. He almost couldn't hear his brother's breathing pattern, which by the way, was agitated.

Sam sat on the other side of Dean's bed, feeling how his brother shifted positions, nervous and ashamed of his reaction. Sam knew how being used by an Archangel felt like. Damn, he had been tortured in hell by one for more years than he could count.

After a few minutes, the younger hunter got up on his feet and headed towards the door. His hand made contact with the handle of it, as he thought of his next move. He didn't want to insist, but he NEEDED his brother to say a word, to say his name. It sounded pretty lame to even think about it, but Dean always called his name with affection, with devoted love. Now, the sound of his voice was just a memory, a ghost that could not be hunted or ended. It felt like having a long and heavy chain tied to his feet, sinking him into a very anxious state that was hard to control, if not impossible.

A second went by, before Sam decided to walk away, closing the door behind him, feeling defeated.

During the weeks that his brother had been gone,he had barely touched a razor, plates with food on them, or closed his eyes to sleep. Alcohol and, sometimes, useless hunting trips to get some information about the lost Archangel, became his best friends. He was focused on finding Dean. His big brother meant more than everything he needed to live. Dean was his shadow, his other half, his weakness. If Dean was not around, he was already dead, so why bothering on eating or pretend he was okay? It was almost funny to think about how much he had changed since his brother was taken by Michael. He had always argued with his father, hating him for the life they were living, judging him for being so busy and cold, not acting like a father to them. Reality hit him, and a bitter smile on his face reminded him how messed up he was. He was just like his father now. People saw him as the new leader, they watched every move he made and were expectant to hear an order being barked to them. He felt disgusted of himself. Sam thought he was better than that. What did these people think of him when he acted like that? Did they really accept him as a new leader, or they just obeyed because they were afraid of saying 'No' to him?

Running towards the closest bathroom, knelt in front of the toilet and puked saliva. He had nothing in his stomach to throw up. When was the last time he had actually cared about eating, and how many times had he heard the "You should eat something, take care of yourself. Everything's gonna be okay. You'll see.", coming from his family and apocalypse survivors?

PRESENT TIME...

"-You hear me?" asked Matt, one of the men that Sam saved from the alternative universe, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sam flinched, cursing in silence when he was aware that he lost himself in his thoughts again. Sam, Matt, Jeffrey, Ray, Bryce and Martin left the bunker two days ago, going on a werewolf hunting trip. Apparently, Supernatural creatures were walking out of their hide spots, killing as many people as they wanted, not caring about the hunters anymore. Something had changed for them to take the risk of being tracked and hunted. One of the werewolves that was being interrogated said Michael's name when the pain was too much to handle, but didn't say anything else after that, which made Bryce mad. He stabbed him in the middle of the chest , in a very frustrated and violent way, his face going from white to an angry red color, eyes focused on the victim's face. He was a tough guy, one hell of a good fighter if he were honest to himself. He could easily be a well trained hunter if he decided to stay in this world.

"Yeah" answered Sam, picking up his duffel bag off the dirty ground, trying to clean a bloody stain on it. Not that that mattered anyway. He had to admit that hunting with these new people made the job a lot easier, but he would change it all in an instant if he could go back to the good old times when Dean was actually around. When things were not as messed up as there were now, they would both sit in the hood of the Impala when the sky was clear, staring at the stars, trying to name them; usually ending with Dean refusing to admit he could not named them all like Sam did.

"Well, at leats I can name most of them without being a nerd like you" Said Dean, pretending to be offended

"One day you will have to say it, man. I am better at naming stars than you are. Have you even read the names in a book or what?" asked Sam, pretending to be surprised, smiling at Dean's moody face.

"No, I am not a book eater like you are. I saw a documentary... when I was bored and had nothing to watch, you know? I don't do those sort of things" said the elder brother, realizing that as he talked, he had admitted he watched a documentary about stars and the universe itself. He hid his red face from his brother, giving the burger in his hands another bite. It was almost cold, but it didn't matter. It was food, and it was pretty damn delicious!

Sam laughed at him, before he finished his salad and diet Coke that came along with it. The silence took their unsaid words, making them resonate in the darkness. Love you, idiot.

Sam drove one of the many cars they owned now, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. Every mile they left behind, it was a mile closer to his home, or better said, to the one person that made that place a home, even if he was still mentally absent. Sam guessed that Dean was still in his room, trapped in his self-hating cycle, that seem to never have an end.

He had to talk, he wanted to help, but Dean's last response to what he had said still burned on his skin like fire and consumed his mind.

"Leave me alone, Sam! That's enough! You can't help me, okay? You don't know a damn thing, so you better get the hell out of here before I kick your ass out on my own!"

Sam closed his teary eyes, feeling defeated. What if he could not help his brother? What if the bond they shared were never restored? He would fight for it, and also kill Michael for hurting his brother in every single way possible.

It was a damn promisse...

Author's Note: Hye guys! Here's another chapter. I guess it won't be a two-shot fic now. Hope you don't mind about that! It's just that I m having too much fun writing about Sam and Dean being apart! Does that make me evil? Lol

Anyways, pleeeease let me know what you think of this chapter through a nice review if you have a minute! Should I keep writing this fiction? See you soon, maybe ;) Love you all!

KW.-