Dean smiled, the world was right. Just him and Sam, riding in the impala, flying across miles of asphalt. Nothing but the soft desert land and clear blue sky. Dean glanced at Sam; his smile vanished. Sam was frowning and, if Dean had to guess, thinking about their dad. Their Dad had been going to Oregon six months ago when he had vanished into thin air.
Last week Sam had called Dean. Said that he'd go hunting one last time, that he had a lead. He'd said nothing more since. Dean could still remember before Sam left for uni, he could remember how they'd travel in companionable silence for days. Now though, the silence felt awkward and Dean, deafened by the unending silence spoke,
"So… What are we looking at?" Dean's voice was soft.
Sam never wanted this, the best thing that Dean could do for him was to find their dad so that Sam could return to his painfully simple, happy and ordinary life, safe as Sam called it. The one that involved a girl in the tattered remains of a Smurfs shirt. Lucky bastard.
"Well there's a bunch of missing persons in some small town in Oregon, it's called Prineville, at least a dozen people disappeared in a couple of weeks. " Sam said, absent-mindedly.
"And?" Dean had been on enough cases that had just turned out to be some psycho to have his doubts.
"There's nothing much else really, but remember the couple, um, Sebastian and Gwen Tyson? No? Um, remember Dakota? At the end of it all Dad said that he owed them one, and since they're out of town on a case, with a trickster I think, they decided to call it in."
"Look it's probably just some creep with a big basement, Sammy, nothing about this case even remotely screams us."
"I remember Gwen and Sebastian, they're pretty trustworthy." Sam's face contorted as he spoke; he didn't like remembering his days hunting. Dean, on the other hand, was wincing, wondering why they'd called Sam instead of him, even though they knew Dean was doing more of it. Not everyone knew that Sam had given up Hunting. Most thought that Sam was undercover; other people thought he just wasn't as good so he got through few cases at a time.
"So give me some more information to go on." Dean's physical eyes may have watched the road, but Sam itched as he felt Dean watch him.
"Well, from what I can tell so far, none of the people who went missing have anything in common…"
"Great." Dean mutters.
"Hey, but get this: Same town, same week, at least four people who went missing in Annandale, Minnesota, about a month ago in Oregon, were found by a bunch of cops. All of these guys were found in the same town that these most recent disappearances went missing in. And from the looks of it…" He types something into the laptop that rests on his knees. "None of them remember anything about what happened." He closes the lid abruptly. "Yeah I think I'd say we've got a case here, Dean."
"Great, then lets speed our asses over there and have a little… talk…. with some of the missing person's families." Sam winced at the tired smile in his elder's voice. Dean liked doing this, Sam just felt guilty for lying to them.
"Dean, I chucked out all my fake badges and ID when I left for Stanford."
Dean smirks, winking slyly.
"Not all of them, little brother." And he retrieves an FBI badge, displaying the name 'John Bonham' under a photo of Sam's face, from the car's dashboard.
"Wow, Dean, sentimental much?"
"Just thinking ahead." He says, shrugging it off with a self assured flash of pearly whites.
"Well don't think too far, I've told you already: as soon as we find dad and bring him home, I go back to uni, back to Jessica, and back to normal."
"Normal is boring-"
Sam cuts him off "Normal is safe. Safe is what I want."
"Fine, Sam. Do what you want; it's not my life. Just tell me one thing, does Jessica know? 'Cause let me tell you, you can live that perfect apple pie life all you want, but keeping this," he nods his head at the fake IDs, "From her isn't going to help."
"No, Jess doesn't know. She doesn't need to, and will never have any reason to, because this is my last hunting trip. I love Jess, Dean. I love you too, but one day I'm going to marry her. I want you to be part of my life, but if you try to pull me towards hunting after this weekend then…" Sam left the rest unspoken, and Dean let him.
"Sammy - sure, you and Jess are destined for each other or whatever, but something always catches up. If you care that much about her… you should leave her alone."
"What? So some monster can kill her without a fight?"
"It will be safer if you're gone, these monsters, things in the dark, they won't have any reason to hurt her if you're not there!"
"I know Dean. I know. But you've got to understand… I can't."
"Sammy, if you give a crap enough about her to save her life, then let her go. Do you even love her enough to do that, though?" Sam glanced at his brother, whom he'd once worshipped, whom he knew pitied him for his weakness. Dean thought the look meant he'd won. It wasn't a happy victory though.
"No, you're right. I don't love her enough, I love her too much. Nothing you say can convince me otherwise." Sam spoke, and his words were final.
"Okay, that's it. Chick flick moment over."
"Jerk." Sam smiled sadly.
"Bitch." Dean replied, returning the gesture. Silence reigned once more; nevertheless, this time it was a comfortable one.
Still, Dean mentally chided himself, and Sam. He hated himself for not being supportive of Sam, but at the same time he wanted to hit Sammy on the head for being naive enough to think that he could escape the Hunting Life. Worst still, he was jealous that Sam was smart enough to just jump into his perfect life. He leaves, and two years later he has a future. And an unfairly hot girlfriend.
Dean couldn't even stick a job. He would never tell Sam, but once, a year ago, he had tried to leave. John had been furious at him. However, he hadn't stopped Dean, and didn't even punish him until he returned home. It was barely a week later that he returned, having gotten fired from three consecutive jobs for various reasons. He'd had the bruises for weeks.
Sam looked out his window and smiled bitter sweetly, he remembered the Halloween party that Jess had insisted they go to. He remembered how she had spent the whole evening boasting in his place. He remembered the way she fulfilled him, how she was everything he could never be, but for some reason she loved him anyway. He couldn't wait to see her face when he got home.
He was going to propose to her when he got out of law school in 3 years. He hoped and dreamed that she would marry him. Had Dean seen him in that moment he may have seen the glimmer of hope in his eyes. Maybe he would have noticed the way Sam's demeanour opened up, and the wrinkles that lined his young face faded for a moment. He didn't though, so they sat, one in their dreams of heaven, the other in their memories of hell.
He saw a house, and watched as the town came into view. It would be less than two hours until they arrived. Two hours of calm silence. Sam knew he could handle that.
He smiled to himself at the time three years ago when he and Dean had gone on one of their trips without their dad. They'd gotten into a fight before they had even crossed state lines and had spent two days travelling in silence. The brothers had tried to get separate rooms, but Sam had realised, just in time, that if they spent the first night in separate rooms then they wouldn't have enough for a second. It didn't end up anyway near as bad as they had thought it would, though.
That night, three whole years ago, they ate, drank, and talked. It was the first time Sam had told anyone his plans for the future, that he wanted to stop hunting. Dean hadn't hated him for it, back then, he understood. Then they got their 4 hours of beauty sleep, and were heading to the location of the 'strange occurrences' the next day. It had been a ghost, which hadn't taken long to handle, and were meeting back up with their dad within the week.
That next weekend, they'd gone and killed a rogue Hunter who'd gone insane from the stress. For some reason his Dad had always taken those jobs, much to Sam's disgust. Dean had gotten pretty scraped up that day, and Sam had spent the weekend cleaning him up, making sure his big brother didn't die from the poison the Hunter had been known for. Sam was angered by how common an occurrence those life and death situations were for them. Their Dad had spent the day drinking away his memories of the Hunter whom he'd once worked with. Sam's grin had turned to a frown from the bittersweet memories that danced behind his drowsy eyelids.
His lashes fluttered and closed, recollection of his life at Stanford toying with him as he gave in to the darkness. Memories of his first meeting with Jess began to warp as she approached him. Her hips sashayed as she walked, her hair bounced against her back. She had a man at her arm, except he wasn't a man. His eyes were black and he had deathly wings, sprouting from his back. Panic simmered within Sam. Every word the creature said prompted a laugh from Jess, while Sam couldn't hear anything but screeching that poured from his jagged mouth. Jealousy tore at him. Jess turned and pulled it in for a kiss and Sam watched as her leg popped up as it always did when she was with him. Anger beat at his chest and made him want to roar. He watched with hatred and pure envy, she turned to him and said,
"This is Timothy, he is perfectly normal in every possible way. He does everything better than you." As the man led her away he looked back and smiled at Sam, showing him his vampire fangs. The simmering panic turned to a boil and Sam recognised the signature of a nightmare, creatures that had been extinct since before even their dad had started hunting... He followed them home from a discreet distance, glowering as the man led her into Sam's room. He waited outside for a moment. Something was holding him back. He knew if he went in, he might ruin everything with Jess. Then, he heard a scream. He rushed inside and watched as Timothy lifted his head from Jess's still body, blood coating his jaw and neck. And out of nowhere she's back; standing was behind him, a transparent figure floating with a translucent fragility that reminded Sam of glass. Slowly she made her way over to him. Jess' ghost stared at Sam, and started to speak. He voice was like cracking metal.
"It's all your fault. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" Her voice became a scream and Sam lurched awake.
The impala was resting in the parking lot of a motel and Sam was alone. He absent-mindedly wiped away the tears that leaked from his eyes. The sun was just rising above the small town's buildings. Sam yawned and stretched as much as he could in the low hooded car. He opened the door and grabbed his bag. There was a note on top, which said "Room 12" in Dean's messy scrawl with key taped to it; the room was plain as usual. At least this one had electricity.
Burger wrappers and empty beer bottles lay on the table. Dean laid spread eagle on the still made bed. His face was soft and unlined and Sam sighed. Dean never looked this carefree when he was awake, at least when he was awake and sober. Sam let his mind wander as he checked the empty fridge and quietly headed to the market to buy food for the next few days. He grabbed a six-pack of beer for his brother, he didn't drink much anymore.
It was noon before Dean woke up, and Sam had already been up and researching all things related to the disappearances and reappearances on his laptop. The first word Dean managed to get out of his mouth was,
"Stanford huh…" Sam glanced at the dreary figure of a slightly hung-over Dean. "Damn Stanford. Always the god… goddamn Stanford." He stumbled into the shower and yelped as the icy water burst from the showerhead. Sam sighed and plugged in his headphones, morning after Dean was one of the most unpleasant people on Earth, as far as Sam could see. It wasn't going to be a fun day. But then again, in Sam's opinion: Hunting was never fun.
