Chapter 2
Away from the Sun
oooOOOooo
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
oooOOOooo
If you could step into my head,
Tell me would you still know me
And if you woke up in my bed,
Tell me then would you hold me
Or would you simply let it lie,
Leaving me to wonder why
I can't get you out of this head
That I call mine -
So I Need You, 3 Doors Down
oooOOOooo
The Mountainview Lodge wasn't as fancy as the name might imply. It was a standard small town motel and since the entire town was surrounded by mountains, the view wasn't particularly unusual. The rustic rooms were paneled in a light color and had paintings that depicted the old west. They'd been donated by a local artist before he went on to become a moderately successful illustrator.
Mindy's older sister, Deborah, had worked there since she was sixteen. She started out as a part-time maid while attending high school and now, at 25, was the assistant manager. She'd heard Mindy's tone on the phone and knew that her sister wasn't going to simply stop being curious about the stranger. Ever since Mindy had been old enough to walk, she'd collected strays. Homeless dogs and cats found a soft touch with her and even the occasional rabbit or bird would happen by for some of her attention. It didn't just stop with animals. She had a big heart and wanted to help whenever she could.
Their parents had wanted her to go to college to pursue veterinarian medicine or even psychology, but after they died unexpectedly on a vacation when Mindy was 15, she'd found it hard to move on. Deborah tried to encourage her, but once she realized that she was only managing to push her sister away, she decided to let Mindy make her own choices.
Lenore wasn't such a bad place to live and Mindy had a respectable job. Besides, she was only 20. There was plenty of time for her to go to school if she wanted to.
"I thought you'd show up here," Deborah said when she saw her sister walk into the motel office.
"I brought you a piece of Mabel's homemade apple pie."
"You can't bribe me."
"I'm not trying to. I know you can't tell me what room he's in. How did he get here? Does he have a car?"
Deborah closed the file folder on the desk in front of her and sighed. She leaned back in her chair and watched as Mindy pulled a stool closer to the desk.
"I haven't seen him get in or out of a car. You saw what was out in the parking lot."
Mindy nodded. "Jake was at the diner when he was there. Jake said he could be running from the law."
"Could be."
"I don't get the vibe from him. Seems more lost than running."
"Or maybe you want him to be that way since he's cute."
Mindy looked at her. "Nice, Deb."
"You said you were flirting with him. You noticed it."
"Yeah, but…." Mindy sighed. "I guess I can't force him to let me help."
"I really just wish you'd stay away from him."
"I have to wait on him if he comes into the restaurant."
"You know what I mean."
"I wonder if he likes apple pie."
"I thought you brought the pie for me."
Mindy slumped on the stool and looked toward the picture window across the room. "There he is."
Deborah followed her sister's gaze and sighed. There would be no stopping her now.
"I'll be back," Mindy slipped off the stool and rushed toward the door.
--
He didn't know where he was going, but the room had begun to feel too claustrophobic to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should be somewhere else, though he had no idea where that might be. He wondered if anyone was looking for him and if there was, was it friend or foe?
As he walked out of the parking lot, he barely noticed the chill of the night air, but his hands found their way into the coat pocket seemingly on their own. He ignored the dark storefronts as he passed by, on his way to nowhere. He didn't see Mindy falling into step behind him, but somehow he knew she was there. She followed him quietly for more than a block before he suddenly turned to face her.
"What do you want?" he asked.
She didn't seem surprised or even startled. "Nothing. I just….I saw you leave the motel and….are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he said and turned away.
"I don't think you are," she called out after him. "Let me help you.'
He stopped walking, but didn't turn around.
"Are you in some kind of trouble?" she asked, not moving toward him.
His heartbeat quickened. Was he?
"How about we get a cup of coffee and just talk?" she suggested.
"You don't even know me," he said, without turning around.
"Yeah. Well, my name is Mindy. What's yours?"
He was about to answer when he realized that he didn't know.
"Just leave me alone, okay?" he begged, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He started walking again, desperation flooding over him.
He heard her footsteps behind him, but his legs were a lot longer and it didn't take much to outpace her. He turned a corner, frantic and afraid. He knew she was still behind him, but he didn't want to talk to her. Something told him not to let anyone get too close; he had no idea why.
Another corner took him further away from her and when he saw a park across the street, he checked for traffic before breaking into a run. Feeling safer surrounded by trees, he eventually stopped running and dropped to the ground.
He didn't know his name. He didn't remember coming to this town and had no idea how long he'd been here. He knew he was staying at a motel, so he probably didn't live here, but where did he live?
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting against the tree, but he was cold and he wanted to sleep. His legs protested slightly as he stood up, but he was able to make his way back to the motel without incident. He slipped into his room, feeling marginally more secure than he had outside. The room felt safer than it had earlier, almost like a sanctuary, but that didn't change the fact the he knew nothing about himself.
Deciding a warm shower would stop his teeth from chattering he undressed and walked into the bathroom. For a while he just stood under the water, enjoying the warmth. As he began to rub the soap over his body, he saw scars from injuries that he didn't remember getting.
Who was he? What kind of person had this many scars? Why couldn't he remember?
Dried off and dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt he'd somehow known were in the dresser, he crawled under the blankets on the bed and reached for the wallet he'd left on the table. There was cash inside; a lot of it. Along with three drivers' licenses and credit cards with two different names on them. This was not the wallet of a law-abiding citizen.
He dropped the wallet onto the floor, dread flowing through his entire body. For all he knew, the pretty waitress didn't really want to help him. She could know exactly who and what he was – maybe they were even enemies. He wasn't safe here. Until he could figure out who he was, he probably wasn't safe anywhere.
Even though he'd slipped further under the thick blanket, he was cold again. He had to leave, but he didn't know where to go. He didn't even remember how he got here – did he have a car? He'd not found any keys in the coat pockets or anywhere in the room.
He turned onto his side and his hand slipped under the pillow seemingly on its own. It was as if he'd expected to find something there; something that would make him feel safer. But the space was empty and he became even more despondent. He wanted to just disappear; just cease to exist.
"Sam," he whispered.
A feeling of optimism began to warm him and he sat up.
"Sam," he said again.
Was that his name? No….
"Sam," he said it louder this time and his eyes widened. "Sammy!"
Excitement coursed through him as he threw his legs off the side of the bed. He ran to the dresser and tossed the unfamiliar clothes aside, looking for….for what? His cell phone! Where was his phone? His eyes darted around the room and when he saw the room phone on the table between the queen-sized beds he ran toward it. His breathing became shallow as he dialed a number he somehow knew and listened to the ringing.
SammySammySammy…. His mind chanted the name. He still wasn't sure whose name it was, but he was desperate to hear the voice that went with it.
oooOOOooo
It was late, but Sam wasn't sleeping. He hadn't really slept since Dean had gone missing nearly a week before. He was exhausted, but he had no choice but to keep going and trying to keep some logic in his search wasn't easy. He'd gotten a few morsels of information and followed up on them only to find himself at another dead end each time.
Sam was lying on top of the still-made bed trying to fool himself into getting a few hours of sleep. He heard his cell phone start to ring and he reached for it lazily, not bothering to look at the caller ID display.
"Hello?"
"S-Sam?"
The voice on the other end was soft and sounded almost timid, but Sam would have recognized it anywhere. He sat up and gripped the phone tightly.
"Dean? Dean, where are you?"
"Sam…."
"Yeah, Dean, it's me. Are you hurt?"
"N-no. I don't think so, anyway."
"Tell me where you are and I'll come get you."
"Uh….It's a town called Lenore."
Sam moved to the small table where he had a map of the area unfolded. He'd been tracing his route and making notes on it. The name sounded familiar, but he knew he hadn't been there yet.
"Hold on, I'm looking on the map. How long have you been there?" Sam asked as he turned on the light and searched for the town.
Dean didn't answer.
"Okay, I found it. I can be there in maybe three hours," Sam was relieved to know where his brother was, but frustrated to find out he was so close even though there'd been no sign of him. "Do you have a room?"
"Yeah, uh, the Mountainview Lodge. Room 34."
"Okay, I'm on my way," Sam threw the few things he'd taken out of his bag back in with one hand, his other holding tight to the phone. "You're safe? Is anything after you?"
"I….I don't know."
Outside, Sam tossed his bag into the back seat of the Impala and shoved the key into the ignition. "What do you mean, you don't know? Dean –"
"I don't know, okay? I…I don't know a lot right now."
"Dean, I don't understand." Sam said, confused.
"Let's just talk about it when you get here."
There was something in his brother's voice that worried Sam. Even when he was afraid, there was usually an air of confidence about him, but Sam didn't hear that now and it concerned him. Something told him not to push too hard; to wait until he could see Dean's face and assess the situation in person.
"Do you want to stay on the phone?"
"Just get here, okay?"
"I'm on my way. Don't leave."
--
Dean put the receiver back on the cradle and paced around his room. He knew who he was, he knew what he did, he knew why his wallet contained various forms of fraudulent identification….what he didn't know was why he'd left Sam in the first place and what he'd been doing since then. He was confused and scared; two emotions that Dean didn't do well with. But Sam was coming and they'd figure everything out. He could hold on for three hours.
--
Sam drove as fast as he dared and maybe just a little faster at times as he headed for Lenore. The last thing he needed was for a cop to pull him over – or even try to pull him over. His driving skills weren't as advanced as Dean's, but he could probably get away from a police car if he needed to. He just needed to get to Dean.
Sam couldn't imagine what had happened to his brother that would explain his disappearance and hearing Dean's voice hadn't made him feel better. He was scared. But of what? And why had he left to begin with? If something was after him then, Sam knew Dean wouldn't have left him behind. Nothing made sense, but at least he knew where Dean was. Sam just hoped he was still there in three hours.
--
"Dean?" Sam knocked on the door and called his brother's name softly. When there was no immediate response, he tried the doorknob, but the door was locked. He knocked again. "Dean, it's me. Open up."
He heard footsteps from inside the room, but the door didn't open.
"Dean," he knocked again. "Come on, man. Open the door."
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw movement in the window. When he turned, he saw the curtain falling back into place and a moment later he heard the sound of the deadbolt lock being disengaged. Finally, the door opened a crack.
"Sam?"
"Yeah. Let me in."
Sam couldn't see much through the narrow opening of the door, but he could tell the room beyond it was dark. He didn't think Dean was going to open the door any further, but before he could figure out his next move, he saw his brother's face peeking out.
"Hey," Sam said, struggling to keep his voice calm. "It's okay; open the door."
He saw Dean take a step backward and Sam pushed the door open gently. He walked inside, closed the door behind him and looked around. There was a little light coming through the window, but not enough to see any detail of the room.
"How about turning on a lamp, dude?" Sam asked. He could barely see his brother on the edge of one of the beds.
Dean didn't respond, nor did he turn on a light. Sam carefully maneuvered to the bed and sat down across from Dean.
"You're sure you're not hurt?" Sam asked.
"I'm sure."
Sam couldn't see his brother's expression very well even though they were sitting close together, but he could hear his voice. He couldn't remember ever hearing Dean sound so scared and Sam couldn't help but wonder if he was keeping the light off so to mask the fear on his face.
"I've been looking everywhere for you, man. Why'd you take off like that?"
"I….Sam, I don't know. I don't remember."
Sam felt cold. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't remember. I…..I don't remember leaving; I don't know how I got here. I have no idea what I've been doing."
"You have that charm Bobby gave us after…?"
"I have it. I'm not possessed, Sam."
"You mind if I judge that for myself?"
"Knock yourself out," Dean sounded tired.
"I'm turning the light on."
Waiting a moment for a protest from his brother, Sam reached for the lamp and flipped it on. He looked at Dean's face and saw the fear he had expected to see. He also saw confusion and exhaustion. He muttered the word Christo as he pulled a silver flask from his coat pocket.
When there was no reaction from Dean, Sam held out the flask to him. Dean took it with a sigh, removed the cap and took a long swallow of the contents.
"Tastes like chicken," he said and smiled sadly.
Sam had considered sprinkling the holy water on him, but that seemed unnecessarily cruel. He was satisfied that his brother – and just his brother – was sitting in front of him. The charms that Bobby gave them after Sam had been possessed were supposed to keep it from happening, but something had caused Dean's memory loss and his strange behavior.
"What's the last thing you remember before leaving?" Sam asked.
"Going to sleep in the motel after kicking some zombie ass."
Sam couldn't help but smile a little at his brother's choice of words. "What's the first thing you remember after that?"
Dean waved his hand. "This. I remember walking through some woods and then this room right before I called you. Other fuzzy things….I don't know, man."
"You don't know how you got here?"
"No."
"Do you know when you got here?"
"Credit card receipt is dated a couple days ago," Dean said, taking the receipt from the table and holding out for Sam.
"Have you talked to anyone since you've been here?"
Dean looked thoughtful. "A girl; waitress maybe? Damnit, I don't know."
Sam could hear the frustration in his brother's voice and he leaned forward a little more. "I remember what it felt like when it happened to me. Don't worry; we'll get to the bottom of what happened."
Dean said nothing. Sam wished there was something he could do or say to make this all right for his brother, but there wasn't. The only thing he could do was figure out what had happened in the days that Dean lost and what might have caused the memory lapse.
Sam saw Dean's eyes widen as he looked up. "Bobby. Is he okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine. He still has some recovering to do, but he's okay," Sam watched his brother closely. "I've been talking to him several times a day."
Dean nodded, relief clear on his face.
"I talked to him just a little while ago, actually. He probably wouldn't mind hearing your voice."
"It's late," Dean said.
Sam heard the uncertainty in his voice and was sure his brother wanted to talk to Bobby. He reached inside his coat pocket. "He's been worried about you, too, man. He would have been right out there looking for you if I'd let him. If he's asleep, he won't answer the phone."
Dean didn't protest when Sam pulled the phone from his pocket. He watched intently as Sam dialed the number.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam said when their friend answered. "I'm with Dean."
He glanced at his brother while listening to Bobby. A moment later he held out the phone. "He wants to talk to you."
Dean took the phone and Sam wasn't entirely sure his hand wasn't shaking. The beginning of an idea was forming for what might have caused Dean's memory loss. It was vague and he recognized it as something he'd learned in a general psychology class, but he knew he didn't have enough information to be sure.
Sam watched as Dean spoke with Bobby. Whatever Bobby said to him seemed to make him relax and a few minutes later, he ended the conversation and set the phone on the bedside table.
"You know," Sam began. "It's late and there's nothing we can do tonight. How about we get some sleep and start asking questions in the morning?"
"What if I take off again?"
"You won't."
"You don't know that," Dean looked at him sadly.
Sam looked around the room, then stood up and pulled the blanket and pillows from the bed he'd been sitting on.
"What are you doing?"
Sam didn't answer as he set about making a bed on the floor in front of the door.
"Sam…."
"You're going to have to get past me to get out of this room," Sam kicked off his shoes and sat down.
"You're not sleeping on the floor."
"I haven't slept in a week, man. I'm not going to even notice I'm on the floor."
Dean relented and a few minutes later, the brothers were under their blankets and the light was off. Sam didn't think either one of them would get much sleep even though they both needed it, but there really was nothing else they could do at the moment. He wanted to set up his computer and look into the idea he'd had, but he wanted Dean to sleep more than he wanted to research.
--
When Sam woke up a few hours later, he found Dean on the floor near him. He was safely wrapped up in a blanket from his bed and looked none the worse for wear. Sam got up and made his way to the bathroom, then set about making coffee. He wanted to get his computer from the car, but something told him not to leave Dean alone even for a moment.
Once the coffee was ready, Sam poured himself a cup and settled at the table that was situated in front of the window. He held the curtain open just enough to see outside. He knew the motel was a couple of blocks from the main street that ran through town. He'd seen on the map that the road was actually a loop that led back to a highway. He didn't remember there being much else around but the town and Sam idly wondered if there was some large employer nearby.
There wasn't a whole lot to see out of the window; the sun was shining and he noticed the deep blue sky overhead. There was a light frost on the ground, which meant that it was probably cold outside, but the room was comfortable. His thoughts turned to what he and Dean would need to do to piece together the last few days. He hoped that they didn't find anything like what had happened when Sam lost time. Of course, he'd been possessed, but that didn't erase the guilt he still felt over killing the hunter.
Sam heard Dean shift and looked toward him. His face was twisted into a grimace and Sam was sure he'd heard a quiet whimper. Before Sam could get to him, Dean started to thrash against the blanket and a moment later, he sat up calling out for their father.
Sam couldn't remember Dean ever waking up like that. He claimed to rarely dream and almost never remember them when he did, but Dean had clearly just suffered a nightmare.
"Dean?" Sam moved toward him carefully.
Dean looked around, then focused on Sam. His breathing was rapid and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin. Sam crouched down next to him. "You okay?"
Dean ran a hand over his face. "Yeah."
"What was the dream about?"
Dean shook his head. "Nothing."
"You called out for Dad," Sam said gently.
Dean looked away.
It hadn't been very long since their father had traded his life for Dean's and Sam knew that his brother was still suffering. A lot of damage had been done to Dean's body by the Yellow-Eyed Demon that had possessed their father and the car accident that happened when Sam was driving to the hospital could have been fatal by itself. There had been no other way to save Dean's life and though Sam missed his father and the chance to mend their relationship, he would be eternally grateful to the man for giving him back his brother.
"It's okay," Sam said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Dean's voice was gruff and he stood up quickly.
"Dean…."
He ignored Sam and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
--
Dean leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, then leaned against the counter and looked into the mirror. His skin was pale and there were nearly black circles under his eyes. It appeared as though he hadn't shaved in a few days and he rubbed the stubble on his face. He heard Sam call his name from the other room, but he didn't respond. He was afraid his voice would betray him and Sam was already worried enough.
Dean turned the water in the shower on and slipped out of his clothes. After the shower that didn't need to take as long as it did, he shaved using the supplies he'd apparently left on the back of the toilet. The bag was unfamiliar as well as the items inside, but he felt an unexplainable need to be clean-shaven.
Out of ways to avoid opening the door, Dean took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before reaching for the knob. Sam was sitting at the table, his laptop in front of him. He glanced at Dean as he walked across the room, but said nothing.
Dean stood in front of the dresser, having approached it as if by habit, but he couldn't bring himself to open any of the drawers. He somehow knew there were clothes in them, but he had no idea where they'd come from.
"You got the car keys?" he asked his brother.
"I brought your bag in when I got the computer. It's next to your bed."
Dean turned around with a muttered thanks.
"You want to go out for breakfast?"
Dean hesitated, his hand on his duffel bag. What he really wanted to do was get the hell out of this town and leave whatever had happened here behind. He'd begun to think that it wasn't really that important to find out what had happened anyway. Maybe it would be better just to go forward; go visit Bobby for a few days and make sure he was all right before taking on another case.
Dean saw Sam turn toward him from the corner of his eye and he concentrated on finding clothes in his duffel bag. He didn't like the feel of the sweat pants that he wore – they were something else he didn't recognize.
"Dean, please don't do this. Don't shut down on me."
He couldn't bring himself to say anything. He heard the concern in his brother's voice and he felt safer now that Sam was here, but he was supposed to take care of Sam, not the other way around.
"Dean?"
"I…." Dean sat down on the bed, his head down with his eyes firmly planted on the floor. He felt Sam sit down next to him, but he couldn't make himself look at his brother.
"Do you want me to go out and ask some questions on my own? I can –"
"No!" Dean answered, more vehemently than he'd intended. He looked at Sam, hoping his face portrayed the apology he couldn't voice.
Sam nodded. "Okay. How about I get cleaned up and we get started?"
"Okay," Dean said, feeling more timid than he could ever remember. "I – uh – I think I'll check on Bobby while you're in the shower."
--
Sam knew better than to push Dean to talk about anything before he was ready, but noticed he seemed slightly calmer after his phone call to Bobby. He thought it might be a good idea to get Dean to Bobby as soon as possible, but first he wanted to poke around town a little.
Normally completely in charge of any situation and comfortable taking the lead, Dean walked a few steps behind Sam as they headed toward the motel office. Even more disconcerting for Sam was that Dean hung behind him, almost as if he was trying to hide, when they passed through the door.
Sam smiled at the woman behind the desk. "Hi, my name is Sam Rollins. My brother, Dean, checked in a few days ago."
She returned the smile and glanced at Dean as he stood behind Sam. She looked somewhat confused. "What can I help you with?"
"Well…."
The brothers had talked about their strategy before leaving the room. Sam had suggested making up a story about Dean being sick and having wandered away from home, though he had assumed Dean wouldn't want something so seemingly embarrassing being told about him. To his surprise, Dean agreed with only a nod.
"See, the thing is," Sam continued after a brief hesitation. "He'd been really sick and just kind of….left home. And, uh, he doesn't remember coming here. I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me about when he checked in or….?"
"I wasn't here when he checked in; the assistant manager was covering the desk. Would you like to speak with her?"
Sam glanced at his brother, then turned his attention back to the woman. "If she's not too busy. Thanks."
"Just a second."
A few minutes after the desk clerk walked through a door behind her, another young woman came from the room on the other side.
"Hi, I'm Deborah Jenkins, the assistant manager. What can I do for you?"
Sam repeated his story and saw the sympathetic look she passed to Dean.
"Well, there isn't much to tell. It was raining and he came through the door soaked to the gills. He said he wanted a room for a couple of days and he gave me his credit card. I charged him for two nights and set him up. The next morning he came in and asked if he could stay longer, so I changed it to open-ended."
"Did you see where he came from?"
Deborah shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. A bus stops at the gas station down the street. I assumed he came from that direction, but I really couldn't say for sure. The bus only comes three times a week. And I, uh, I know he's had a few meals at the diner a couple blocks over. My sister works there and I know she's talked to him. Maybe she can tell you more."
Sam noticed some hesitation in Deborah's voice and wondered if it was simply due to not wanting her sister involved in what probably seemed like a very bizarre situation. He could appreciate that, but he also knew there was nothing for Deborah to worry about from them.
He looked at her with all the sincerity he could muster. "Thanks for your help. There hasn't been any trouble, has there? I mean, not that I would expect there to be, but –"
Deborah smiled, but she still looked uneasy. "No, no trouble. He hasn't wanted any housekeeping service, but there haven't been any problems."
"Thanks again. We might be sticking around for another day. Would it be all right for me to stay in his room?"
"Of course; absolutely. If there's anything you need, just let me know."
Sam nodded. "Thanks."
Outside, he looked at Dean. "See? No problems."
"Yeah, except that I can't freakin' remember how I got here."
"Dean," Sam began quietly. "Look, man, I know how you feel. I –"
"No, you don't!" Dean whirled around to face him. "You were possessed, Sam. I wasn't. I don't know what happened to me."
"I think maybe I do."
Dean looked at him with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
"I don't know for sure, but…."
"What?"
Sam sighed. "Let's go find something to eat and talk, okay?"
"Dude, come on, I –"
"I don't know if you've been eating regularly, but I haven't. I'll tell you what I suspect over breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever."
"I… I don't want to go to that diner. Not yet."
"Okay," Sam agreed, not willing to pressure Dean. "Well, how about we get in the car and find someplace else? We can even head over to the next town."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay."
They walked across the parking lot to where Sam had left the car. He fully expected Dean to demand the keys and to give the car a good once-over before opening the door, but was surprised when Dean stopped on the passenger side.
"You don't want to drive?"
"Nah," Dean shrugged.
Feeling a little uncomfortable, Sam unlocked the doors and slipped behind the wheel.
tbc