Chapter 2

The early afternoon sun seemed to mock Dean as he sat baking in his classic '67... "oven" waiting for his little brother to emerge. He figured a few more minutes in this heat and something inside of him would pop out indicating that he was fully cooked. Even with all the windows rolled down, the internal temperature had to be at least 110 degrees.

Dean glanced over to the broken Lake Front Motel sign that was dangling pathetically from the cracked wooden post it had been mounted on, and screwed up his face. No sign of Sam…no sign of anything actually. He was surprised by the lack of activity. Everybody must be swimming in 'the lake' around back he sarcastically grumbled to himself as sweat trickled its way down his brow and into his right eye causing it to burn and tear.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and reached for the half drunk bottle of warm soda haphazardly lying on the passenger seat. His sweaty t-shirt stuck to the leather momentarily, which aggravated his sore back. He twisted the top and frowned when it lacked the refreshing hiss he had hoped for as he opened it. "flat...that's just great" he complained as he guzzled down the warm syrupy liquid in his pathetic attempt to refresh himself.

He lifted the bottom of his t-shirt and wiped his forehead, then glanced around…. still nothing, no cars, no people….. no Sam. His eyes noticed a Mini-Mart just down the street and for a moment he considered stopping in for some food and a cold beer, but then he looked back at the motel. Knowing his luck, Sam would leave while he was occupied inside making some stupid decision as to whether to buy the Hostess Cinnamon Swirl Muffin or indulge himself with the cream filled chocolate cupcakes. He couldn't take a chance on missing Sam, of losing him again. Sam needed him and he was gonna sit there until hell froze over or, in his case, until the flames of hell engulfed him, if necessary so he could be there for Sammy… that is if …his little brother would let him. The jury was still out on that one.

oooOOOooo

Dean's stomach growled as he scanned the motel doors for any signs of movement. He wondered what his younger sibling could possibly be doing all day long in his hotel room…sleeping? Doubtful. Sam rarely got a good night's sleep, let alone caught a few extra zzzzzs during the day. The kid was always up at the crack of dawn, usually disturbed by troubling nightmares. It was only on rare occasions that Sam would be asleep well into the morning…and most of them were due to trouble…fevers or injuries.

Dean recalled a time Sam had been wounded in a hunt and had ended up sleeping for almost three days straight. It had seriously scared the crap out of Dean.

They had been tracking what they thought was a black dog for over an hour, deep into the woods up in New England. As it turned out, they were hunting a female werewolf. The boys knew they were in trouble when they stumbled across her litter. "A protective female werewolf is nothing to mess with when her kits are around" their father's voice echoed warningly in the back of both their minds simultaneously. It had been drilled into them from day one. Had it not been for his little brother's intuition and quick reflexes, coupled with their training and teamwork, neither one would have made it out alive.

As Dean attempted to slowly step back away from the three kits that stood staring at him with their teeth bared, uttering low threatening growls, the mother attacked him. He went down hard and rolled trying to toss the creature off. Her jagged teeth had grabbed hold of his leather jacket, but had failed to break his skin…yet. It was only a matter of seconds before she would tear him apart and both brothers knew it.

Sam, knowing that a shot would just as easily hit Dean as much as the werewolf as the two tussled on the forest floor, made a move for the kits, knowing full well he would draw the enraged creature's attention off his brother and onto himself.

Instinctively, the female discarded Dean and went straight for Sam, who at that point had fired two shots that had taken out two of the kits and was making headway towards the third. Dean had desperately hollered to his brother once he was freed of her massive weight to warn him of her coming, but it was too late. The beast, having seen her two kits' bodies morphing back into human forms as they lay dying on the ground, viciously attacked Sam.

Dean watched in horror as his brother's body was slashed and shaken violently and without mercy. He took aim and fired on the third kit hoping to draw the vindictive creature's attention back upon himself. She looked up in his direction, but was dead before she had a chance to hear the explosion of the rifle.

All went silent except the lingering echo of the gunshot off in the distance. Dean looked over at the bloody heap lying motionless to the right of the now morphed, dead female body. The sight would be etched in his mind forever. He held his breath as he dropped his weapon and frantically made his way to his fallen brother. Only after he felt the rise and fall of his little brother's torn chest beneath his searching hands as they ghosted over his blood soaked sibling, did he dare to breathe.

Sam's body was trembling as he began stirring to consciousness. He moaned out his brother's name, begging to know if his older sibling was alright, if the werewolves were dead, and finally, if he was gonna make it. Dean answered all his questions affirmatively, especially the last one, as he attempted to wrap his brother's bleeding wounds in the clothing he could pull off his own back . He finally attempted to get Sam on his feet amidst his gasps, waves of dizziness, and whimpered cries.

The struggle just to make it back to the car was unbearable. Sam had tried his best to keep putting one foot in front of the other as Dean had coached and encouraged him to do, but finally his suffering body, too overwhelmed with blood loss and trauma, painfully collapsed in his brother's bare arms, almost a full mile short of their goal. Dean had to drag him the rest of the way as his unconscious sibling's wounds slowly oozed out his life as they went. After sixty two stitches, days and days of worry and lots of hovering, Dean had managed to nurse Sam back to health. The only threat to Sam's health that lingered for weeks was the threat of what Dean would do to him if he ever did anything like that again.

Sam had saved Dean's life and taken one hell of an attack on himself to do it. Dean winced at the thought of the bloody mess his brother had been.

He glanced once again at the crumbing little motel as it casted its dinky shadow across the pot-holed parking lot in the late afternoon sun. A few people had come and gone but there was still no sign of Sam, and Dean began to grow restless. He never was one for waiting and the thought of Sam, sick or injured inside his motel room, alone, troubled him to the point of action.

He flipped the handle of his driver's side door and shoved it open. It moaned and creaked, but finally obliged. His stiff body moaned and creaked along with it as he straightened himself out and headed towards the trunk to grab the first aid kit in case he would need it. He'd stop by the office and then, if he had no luck, he would ring Sam's cell phone over and over and listen at each door to figure out which one his sibling was suffering behind. He knew Sam wouldn't answer..he'd tried that route probably forty times before, but he was certain Sam would never shut it off, use it to screen out Dean's call, yes, but completely shut himself off from his brother, no. Sam would always want to know if Dean really needed him and knew the cell phone was the only way Dean could let him know.

He stopped suddenly by the rear bumper.

Maybe Sam was just inside watching TV? No injuries, no sickness, just glued to the tube. He supposed it was a possibility, especially now that big brother wasn't around to walk in on him. Dean smirked as he remembered walking in on Sam and The Skin Channel a few weeks back. Actually, porn was not Sam's style. The way he figured it, Sam had the cleanest mind around. If he was gonna "be" with a girl…he was gonna marry her and Dean admired him for that, though he would never admit it. Jessica was proof. Sam had been shopping for rings before she was ...taken. That morning, the poor kid was probably just channel surfing and got curious…then caught…every teen's nightmare, but for Sammy…it came a little bit later in life. God, he loved Sam's innocence and laughed at the humiliation Sam must have felt when he walked in.

Dean stood pressed against the Impala as a car swooshed past him a bit too closely. He began to relax as the thought of Sam watching TV was much more appealing than the previous one...where his brother lay injured or sick in a stinkin run down motel in the middle of nowheresville.

Truth was...it made sense. Television had actually been oddly therapeutic for Sam as he was growing up. His brother was empathetic and used to gleen emotions off of the thing, trying to thrive on the friendships and relationships, playing out before him on the big screen since he rarely got the opportunity to live in one place long enough to develop his own. It pulled a bit at Dean's heartstrings as he pictured little Sammy watching Happy Days desperately trying to soak up the father/son relationship Mr. Cunningham had with Richie. He used to tease Sam mercilessly about watching such a lame show, but looking back, he could see why it was so important to the kid. Sam longed for normal and somehow the family on TV seemed a lot more 'normal' than his family did.

With the lifestyle they had this past year, always traveling and never staying in one place, Dean had been Sam's anchor, especially in the wake of Jess's death. He filled the relationship void Sam had struggled with, almost being the temporary 'normal' his brother needed to survive, not that their lives were anywhere near normal. Maybe familiar was a better word.

With how things had been going lately with Dean consumed by the loss of his father and the blame he placed on himself, Sam had been… in a way, alone, trying to 'deal' with his father's death and his guilt over a relationship that could have been, but was now forever lost. Dean was having trouble filling that void for Sam, hell, he couldn't even get himself out of his own void to walk over to fill Sam's. He'd seen his brother watching more TV than usual recently, but hadn't given much thought to it. Now, he realized. Sam had probably dug up his old habit to help get him through, to feel something, anything normal if you could call anything on TV normal these days.

Not wanting to break down every door of the poorly kept motel with the first aid kit in his hand only to have the police arrest him for disturbing the peace while his brother sat unaware watching TV in the last room that he never made it to, Dean made his way back to his seat and resumed his vigil. His wet clothes stuck to him as he walked and felt absolutely disgusting trapped between his body and the leather seat. Sam was perfectly fine. There was no reason to think otherwise. If something was wrong, he was pretty sure Sam would have called him. Dean tried to rationalize his fears away with the TV theory and it seemed to be working. The best strategy right now was to sit and wait…well at least for a few more minutes...

oooOOOooo

Dean startled awake suddenly as a delivery truck rumbled by, wafting what felt like the hot breath of a full grown bearwolf across Dean's sweat drenched body. Normally he would have found something sarcastic to say about it, but it did offer at least a bit of relief as some of the water droplets on his skin caught a ride, giving him a sense of coolness, though his body could barely detect any change. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the heat, hunger, and lack of sleep was wearing heavily on him.

His eyes desperately searched the motel property across the street as he wiped his tired face with his hand. Nothing had changed. He hoped he hadn't missed anything, missed Sam. Judging by the location of the sun in the sky, he hadn't been dozing for long. The hunter side of him would have woken him had anything happened. He was pretty sure of that even with how tired he was.

Still nothing...still, no Sam. Dean grumbled. He couldn't stand the waiting. In fact, he was never good at waiting unless, of course, he had a little geeky brother to pester. Dean smiled. Over the years he had created quite a bag of tricks to torment Sam with...anything from annoying sounds to utterly embarrassing stuff just to irritate or make his little brother blush or squirm. Dean smiled as he remembered one incident that still cracked him up every time he remembered it.

He and Sam had been out in public. Sam was researching quietly at the library and Dean was waiting for him at the local diner. Growing bored, Dean decided to hurry up the process by taking full advantage of the walkie talkies they each had been carrying since Sam had lost his cell phone on a hunt just a few days earlier.

Dean imagined his geeky little brother scanning articles in some quiet little corner trying to go unnoticed. Trying to choose the exact moment he thought he could inflict the most damage, Dean barked into the radio with a very Spanish accent. "Hey, Look'a me! I'm a good lookin guy!" His voice shattered the peaceful, almost reverent setting of the quiet library.

Heads began turning in Sam's direction as he desperately fumbled with the damn thing in his pocket trying to turn it off as Dean droned on. "I wear leopard underwear. I wear leopard underwear" he continued in a sing song-y way.

Sam had finally shut the thing off amidst stares from all directions and exited the library as if it were on fire. Dean could still see the red hue to his little brother's face in his mind as Sammy aproached from clear across the street through the diner window. The kid was furious! It took Dean almost two hours to get Sam to say anything to him and even then, everything was spoken through clenched teeth. Sam didn't hold his head up high until they left the town far behind in the rearview mirror the next day.

Yeah, waiting was okay if you had a little brother around. But, otherwise...it was crap. Dean shook his head. God, he missed Sammy.

oooOOOooo

One hour later and a few degrees hotter, Dean was growing irritable. This time, it wasn't so much the waiting or the heat or even the soreness of his body that was making him feel that way. It was more the anxiety building inside of him...of not knowing how Sam would react when his little brother saw him. Would he be angry? Maybe even bolt if he approached him? Could his coming... further frustrate an already precarious situation. Even if he were given the chance to talk with Sam, would Dean be able to convince his little brother to rethink his choice.

He glanced at his watch. Damn. 4:12 pm. Where the hell was he?

Suddenly a thought hit him. Sam could have taken off before he even got there? "Crap!" A wave of worry suddenly washed over him again. He had gotten there just after 7 a.m. and assumed his arrival was early enough. But, Sam could have gotten something to eat and gone on his way by then. He wondered if this nothing town had a library. His geeky brother could be there, lost in some old book that promised some ridiculous scheme on how to ward off demons. It was amazing how much crap got published about that stuff, none of which was anywhere near accurate.

Damn. What if the demon had gotten to Sam? Another wave of worry washed over him, this one much more powerful than the first. "Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm around." Dean's words surfaced and he swallowed hard. He hadn't been around….not just since Sam left, but really ever since Dad had died.

Dean regretted that he hadn't offered Sam much in the relationship department lately, in fact, if any thing, he'd been the cause of a lot of heart ache for Sam. He'd seen it in his brother's expressions knowing full well their meanings. He knew how Sam thought, what he feared, what he valued most. He even knew his sighs, the ones that meant he was tired, worried, frustrated, or just feeling hopeless. Sam was feeling disconnected, separated from Dean. Dean knew it, but felt helpless to offer his brother much of anything, trying himself, to just get through the day…one day at a time. For the past few months, since Dad died, Sammy had been crying out to him in every way, longing to understand his hurting brother and be understood.

Instead, Dean had watched, helplessly unable to deal with his own torment, as his words and walls slowly destroyed the kid. "Go ahead, take a swing, if it will make you feel any better" Sam's words echoed in Dean's mind and heart. Damn. How could he have let it get to that point? He berated himself, knowing he had added to his brother's burdens, taking his pain out on his also mourning younger sibling.

His 'sorry', though sincere hadn't relieved the burden of guilt he still carried for how he'd treated Sammy. Damn. He had hit the kid, for God's sake, sucker punched him square in the face..for what?…because he'd dared to reach into his older brother's flooding world and attempted to throw him a life preserver? Yeah, the inner tube was a bit spiked, but the intention was never in question. Sam would never do anything intentional to hurt him and he knew it. Shit, then he'd told him he didn't want him around when he headed to a local bar for a beer. "Alone" He shook his head ever so slightly and frowned as he recalled Sam's face... devastated, despairing, and hopeless. He felt like crap….again.

Sam had been his rock through it all and kept coming back for more. He had been a faithful brother and best friend, sticking with him and beside him all the way. "Guess, I'll have to hang around and be a pain in the ass, then" Sam's words replayed in his head. Dean hated himself. Sam had really been there for him and his brother had been hurting too, inside where the wounds were hard to detect. "Too little too late," God, the pain in his little brother's eyes when he said that. "We've lost Dad, we've lost Mom, I've lost Jessica…and now I'm gonna lose you too?" Dean knew Sam's sadness, felt it himself as he watched his younger sibling suffer as he was bombarded with loss after loss…of a mother, a loved one, a normal life, a father.

Sam had left, walked away with no forwarding address. His leaving was his attempt to protect Dean because he feared that he would lose him one day too and what's worse…he felt it would be his fault.

In this last hunt, though they hadn't really talked about it much, Sam blamed himself. Dean had cut him off trying to alleviate his brother's guilty feelings by ending the conversation. But it had had the opposite affect. Sam had finished the conversation in his head and concluded he would do whatever it would take, including walking away, if he believed it would save his older brother's life. He would throw his own life down, risk being wide open, practically demon food, for his brother's sake.

It was something Dean could never allow him to do. If anyone was going to go down in this battle against evil, it would be Dean, not Sammy. Dean had known this all along. It was accepted, almost expected, as if part of his job description and Dean was fully prepared to meet all the requirements, hell, he'd established the requirements 23 years earlier. If it came down to it, Dean would die for Sam. But Sammy? Giving his life up for Dean? It was never an option nor would it ever be. That was for damn sure.

Dean swallowed the last bit of sludge in the bottom of the soda bottle and tossed it into the back seat where it joined the pile of other discarded food containers. Everything inside of him wanted to run across the street and pound on every door until he found his brother. Half of him was furious that Sam had gone off and left him. It was foolish and reckless. He could get himself killed, for God sake, with the demon on the prowl. The other half of him was scared to death that he wouldn't be able to convince his thick headed sibling that they needed to be together.

What could he possibly say to convince Sam. They belonged on this journey together, no matter what the outcome. It wasn't a path they had chosen 23 years ago, but it was a path they were set on and it was one they were destined to walk together. Sam's fear of something happening to Dean, to be specific, his dying, on this quest for answers caused the youngest brother to run away. What Sam didn't get was that without Sam, Dean was already dead. Dean knew it and he somehow had to convince Sam of it too.

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Thanks for reading! Please let me know what ya thought! Don't be shy...just reply! Rachelly

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Author's Note for the curious: The next chapter goes into the hunt and what happened to cause Sam to leave. I wanted to work through a few issues from season 2 in this chapter…before we got there. Hope you enjoyed!