Warning: Ummmmmmm, swearing and more angst. It'll be over soon (the angst). Well, not over, but it will be in a sort of intermission.

Author's Note: Just had to say, in my set of Supernatural stories, Dead Man's Blood, Salvation, and Devil's Trap did not happen. John went off and got the Colt by himself, killing both Meg and the still (according to me) unnamed demon boy. Then he raced to Cromwell, where signs were popping up, only to find his son possessed by the demon, and ending up well and truly dead. Oh, and I will try and post each night, at least one chapter, but my net is being evils at the moment, so... yeah. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Fight

Dean woke with the sun shining in his face. He grimaced as he squinted, putting a hand in the way of the beam of light coming in through the partially closed curtains. What time was it?

He rolled over, his bleary vision just making out the bright yellow numbers on the alarm. 08:36.

He groaned, and rolled onto his back. He still needed more sleep. His skin felt stretched. But he had a lot to do today. He had to go back to that farm, gather his father's things. And he had to do it alone, because there was no way in hell he was letting Sam…

Suddenly realizing the room was missing something, he looked over at his brother's bed. His brother's empty bed.

Cursing that he hadn't noticed it the instant he woke up, he threw the covers off and got up, stumbling in his haste to find clothes. He put his jeans on and suddenly felt the weight of his phone on his pocket. Cursing once more, this time at the fact that he hadn't thought of calling before, he pulled it out and began dialling Sam's number.

He hadn't even started though, when it suddenly rang in his hand. He jumped, before flipping it open, hope spreading in his stomach.

"Sam!" he greeted, relief easy to hear on his voice.

"Dean?"

The strange voice made him frown, as he deflated like a popped balloon. It wasn't Sam. But then, the voice hadn't been expecting him either.

"Dean, are you back with your Dad?" the voice asked again, and it tugged strings in his head. And in his heart.

He almost dropped the phone, as if it burned, as he realized it was John's that he had answered.

"Who is this?" he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"It's Joshua," the voice answered, and Dean sighed silently in recognition. "Dean, is your Dad there? I need to speak with him."

Dean sat down on the bed, running a hand over his eyes. He wasn't ready for this. He needed time to put everything together himself, make sure it was real inside his own head, before he told anyone else about the great hunter's death.

"Dean?" Joshua's voice broke into his thoughts. The older hunter sounded worried.

"Yeah, ah… Dad's not here, Joshua," he said, the confession tearing at his heart. He didn't want to admit it.

"But you are with him, yeah? I mean, he'll get back soon, right?" Joshua asked. Dean closed his eyes, wishing the man on the other end wouldn't play dumb. Not that he would be doing it intentionally. Denial was a powerful tool.

"He's not coming back," Dean answered quickly, saying it fast, getting it out. "He's dead."

The bluntness struck Joshua into silence. And then, "Oh, God, what happened? Are you okay?"

Dean's eyes were still closed. "It… it was the demon. It found us, and it killed Dad."

"Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I know how close you and your Dad were."

Dean smothered the anger before it could flare. He didn't want pity. "I'm fine. We're fine." Well, they would be once he found the other half of the they. He looked over at the alarm clock. Ten minutes since he had woken. Another ten minutes of not knowing where Sam was.

"Dean?"

Again, Joshua's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here. Look, sorry, Joshua, but I have to go. How come you're calling?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I mean, you and Sam have to get back on your feet -."

"Josh," Dean warned. "We're fine. Why were you calling Dad?"

"I told you, it's nothing. Just a few disappearances in Cromwell, in Alabama, but I've got someone else…"

He trailed off as Dean laughed, rubbing at his eyes. He didn't even have any idea what he was laughing at, besides the fact that hunts just seemed to catch up with them, which wasn't all that funny, when he thought about it.

"It's okay. Me and Sam are already in Cromwell, Joshua. We were here when we met up… We were already here. It's okay, we're looking into it."

"Are you sure?"

Dean sighed. "Absolutely. I'll see you later, Joshua."

A second later he hung up, only waiting to hear half of the older hunter's farewell, and snapped the phone shut, dropping it as if it were poisonous. His hands were shaking, and he was trying to stop it. He hadn't been ready for that. But at least he wouldn't have to call anyone else. Joshua would take care of it.

But he thought he would have to take a leaf out of his dad's book and let everything go to voicemail, so he wouldn't have to hear anyone else's pity.

He sighed, clenching his fists, and stood. He needed to find Sam. Who knew what the kid was doing.

He grabbed his jacket and opened the front door. Only to jump for the second time that day as he almost ran into his returning brother.

Sam didn't jump, but was in the motion of returning his hand to his pocket. Dean however, had to take a moment to let his heart relax.

"Jesus, warn a guy next time," Dean said when he could speak again. He moved back, letting Sam into the room. His un-grinning brother. He sighed where Sam couldn't see.

"So, where were you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He couldn't.

Sam shrugged. "Around," he answered.

Dean went cold.

Where the hell have you been?… Sam shrugged… Around. That had been the demon's excuse as well.

He stopped, staring at Sam, who had sat down on his bed, totally unaware of the affect his word had had on his older brother.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, smashing Dean's illusion. While his little brother was sitting on his bed, he was fully aware that something wasn't right with Dean.

"Fine," Dean answered, sitting down. "It's just, I was worried. I woke up, and you weren't there."

As soon as he said it, he realized how clingy he sounded. But he sat there, ignoring the blush, waiting for Sam to roll his eyes. The movement never came.

"Sorry, I just needed some fresh air," Sam said, keeping his head down. "I'll leave a note next time."

Dean nodded. He had to get off this topic. "So, ah, Joshua called while you were out. To talk about the disappearances here, of all things. Big coincidence, huh?"

Apparently Sam didn't really care. "Did you tell him? 'Bout Dad?"

Dean nodded, swallowing. "I did. He called Dad's phone, so… yeah. But, what you think? Ready to start looking into them?" He knew the answer to that was a 'fuck no' but they couldn't sit about and do nothing. They would both go mental.

Sam nodded. "Absolutely. I'll start right now." He got up, quick to action, and grabbed his laptop.

Dean nodded back. "I've got some things to do," he said, referring to the farm where their dad's stuff still lay untouched. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

He was almost out the door when Sam called out one last set of instructions, though it was so quiet, he almost didn't hear it.

"Grab his dog tags. We should bury them with Mum."

That night found Sam rubbing tiredly at his eyes as they gathered grit and clouds. He continued staring at the computer screen, even if he didn't really read the words. He just sat and stared, dazed into thoughtlessness.

But then he yawned, breaking the contact with the laptop. Dean stared across at him from where he was sorting through papers, but didn't say anything. For which Sam was grateful. Maybe Dean had finally given up on the whole heal with words crusade. Sam's problems couldn't be solved with words. Maybe with a bullet to the head, but he wouldn't leave Dean behind, whatever the circumstances. Even if it was his fault their father was dead.

He found himself yawning again, and turned it into a sigh of exasperation. He shut the screen.

"This is getting us no where," he spoke up. "I mean, these disappearances are random, no witnesses, nothing… I mean, how do we even know there's something supernatural behind it?"

Dean sighed, dropping the paper he had been reading. "I know. So what, you want to leave?" There was a hopeful tint to his voice: he wanted to leave to get Sam away from the memories. "Tell Joshua we couldn't find anything, that it's just some idiot showing humans can be just as nasty as demons?"

Sam seriously considered it for a moment. But then he shook his head. "No, we should stay. Make sure. After all, Joshua wouldn't call for no reason."

He frowned, swearing he caught a hint of… something. Something in his mind. One of those freaky things left over from the past few days? That tainted sense could be his imagination. Or was it something real? It would be, just when he wanted to leave this god-forsaken town.

"So, what do we know so far?" he asked to stop the thoughts. "What's the count?"

Dean sighed, and searched for a paper. "Thirteen disappearances so far."

"Any patterns?" Sam asked next, regretting that he was. Usually he was the one with the answers. Today though, he had seemed to be all but useless.

"Depends on what you mean. All thirteen are men, who disappeared on the east side of town – the seedy side. That's where the bars are, the dirtier ones. Ah, all men, but I mentioned that already. All aged between eighteen and thirty. All in good health when they were taken. All athletic, tall, strong. Not normally the kind of men who would be victimised. I mean, a lot of these men have police records for fighting. Most aren't the nicest men. Some amateur boxers. There was a cop, taken last night actually."

Sam frowned. "All men who can defend themselves. I guess that's one reason to rule out humans I guess."

Dean shrugged. "'Spose. It is weird. You should see the pictures for some of these guys – one guy was taller than you and twice as wide."

"Anything else weird?" Sam asked, turning back to the computer. "I mean, in the area?"

"Not sure if any of it's our business," the older hunter said, finding a photocopied article. "There was a breakout at the prison a week ago. Ten convicts disappeared, killing seven guards… Whoa."

Sam looked up. "Whoa, what?"

"Whoa, six of the guards are reported as being drained of blood, but lacking any wounds big enough to explain the massive blood loss."

The younger man didn't speak for a moment. "That is weird. So, you think something helped those men escape? But what? And what would drain someone at the same time?"

"Some kind of demon?" Dean suggested. "I'm not sure. I think we need more detailed reports." He looked at his watch. "Not that we'd be able to get them now. It's past twelve. And you look half-dead. You actually going to sleep tonight?"

Sam shut the computer. "I slept last night."

Dean nodded. "Sure you did." It was obvious his brother didn't believe him. "Look, Sam. I know you don't want to go to sleep, because you don't want to dream."

Sam snorted. "How the hell do you know what I want?" he snapped. "I want to sleep Dean, but… but…" He suddenly shuddered. "Just drop it okay."

He went to move to the bathroom, but Dean sprung from the bed and barred his way. His face was tight with anger and frustration.

"No, I'm not going to drop it, Sam. We're talking about this," he ordered. "You need to talk about this!"

"No, I don't!" Sam cried. "I don't need that, Dean. You know what I need? I need space. I need time to figure out everything in my head before I can even try to explain it to someone who has no clue what's going on in my head. Now back off!"

Before he could stop himself, he had pushed Dean to the floor, hard enough for his older brother to wince as he landed on his wrists. Then, quivering, Sam spun on his heels and left the room.

Dean watched him leave, shocked. Now that wasn't the reaction he had expected.

Sighing, he stood, dusting imaginary dust off his clothes. Then he ran a hand through his hair.

He was almost tempted to go after Sam, to find him and drag him back so they could talk. But he knew Sam would be long gone by now. And he would be back. The better thing to do was wait until the younger man got back from his walk. He would be fine. He would be.

I'll make sure if it, he thought to himself, determined. He didn't realize his thoughts had changed it from talking about Sam's walk to talking about Sam's problems. Sam would be fine. Dean would make sure of it. As soon as Sam got back, they were talking. Sam would talk if Dean had to cuff him to the damn bed to do so.

No, the boys are not getting kinky. Yes, Sam is one screwed up Winchester at this point in time. Yes, something big and dramatic may happen. Thank you for reading. BYE!