Once again, thanks to my betas! And thanks to you guys for following this story. I'm sorry it took me so long to publish this one, but I really have a hard time writing this fic because of my lack of confidence in English. Anyway, here it is so I'd love to here from you about what you think!
He couldn't afford to panic. Not when his son's life counted on his ability to stay calm and hunt down whoever the bastard was who took him. Because if Dean hadn't been able to stop him, he must be one hell of a guy. Sam needed to think straight and above all, not panic.
The younger Winchester breathed heavily and tried to get an answer out of Pastor Jim. Poor guy was so scared that he couldn't even say a couple of words without stammering. Sam sat down on the wooden bench and invited the older man to do the same. The Pastor shook his head, his hands still shaking.
"I'm so sorry Samuel, I-I didn't think he would turn mad like this. He-he knocked and Meghan opened. Dean tried to explain who he was but he didn't listen and-and he took him and punched Dean. They fought but he managed to defeat your brother and he left. I'm sorry, I was in my chamber and I thought that if I showed up, no one would be there to explain what happened to you" Pastor Jim said with a shaky voice.
Sam sighed deeply, feeling the worry rising in his chest. He had to control his panic. Now. The priest hadn't mentioned the abductor's name but the younger Winchester knew better.
"Where was John headed? Did you see the car leaving?" He asked.
"I-I don't know, he drove by the church, I think he left for the highway."
"Thanks Jim, I'll be back, keep me in touch if he should return."
"Yeah, sure, Samuel. Good luck, I'll pray for you."
"Thanks," Sam said again, shifting uncomfortably.
He wasn't very fond of the religious strike in the priest's voice, but he wouldn't say no to a bit of divine help. He wasn't that foolish, after all. Not when Meg's life was on line.
Sam was relieved when he saw the Impala still parked in front of the church. John must have left with in his own car and in a hurry because the Impala was left untouched. Now he could track him down. He had a brief thought for his brother who would turn all berserk if anyone had damaged his car.
The younger Winchester jumped in the car and headed in the highway's direction. He would find his son. And John would pay.
[page break]
Dean woke up with a fuzzy feeling and one hell of a headache. He groaned and tried to stand up, only to realize that he was handcuffed to the bed. He opened his eyes and stared at the crappy ceiling of a motel room. Great. Wasn't he supposed to be at Pastor Jim's chappell? A strange whine got his attention and he tried to turn around, only to be stopped by the bindings.
"Dii! Dii!"
Dean froze. He would have recognize this voice in a crowded street, even without his particular nickname.
"Hey pumpkin. Don't worry, everything is okay. How you feelin'?"
"'am cold and scared! Where's Daddy?" Meg sniffed, his voice showing fear.
"He's gone for a while but he's gonna come back, babe."
"Who's the bad man, Dii?"
"He's.. he's my daddy, he won't hurt you, okay?"
"'Kay."
Meg curled up and started to cry softly. Dean winced, his heart tightening while hearing his nephew sobbing. It wasn't right. He was supposed to smile and laugh. Damn it, John, what had his father in mind? They were so fucked. God, when Sammy would find out what happened... he didn't know how all off this could get any worse.
The lightheadedness in the back of his head grew bigger and bigger. He only heard the breaking little scream of his nephew before everything went black.
[page break]
Sam was still driving, but the young man was deeply lost in his thoughts. He couldn't have imagined for one second that John would have acted like that, should he ever learn the truth about Sam running away and his new life. Sam wasn't his father's biggest fan in the first place but he had never hated him. Now, though... he didn't know what to think. John acted like the perfect douchebag Sam always tried not to see in him.
His phone rang, interrupting his train of thought. He picked it up, frowning when he didn't recognize the number on the screen.
"Yes?" he asked in a rough voice.
"Sam? Sam Winchester?"
"Yeah, what do you want?" he hissed.
"Wow, easy tiger. Do you know who I am?"
"No. Look, I'm kinda busy now, so..."
"Nah, no wonder John never told you about me. The name's Ellen. I'm an old friend. It's Dean who gave me your number."
"Dean?" Sam practically yelled through the phone.
"Boy was at my bar a few minutes ago. With a baby and a pissed-of John, for all that matter. He wrote your number but couldn't tell me what it was about."
"Doesn't matter! Where are you? Where were they going?"
"Nebraska. They were heading back to Kansas."
"I'm on my way. Thanks!"
"You're welcome, boy. I don't know what happened to John, but he wasn't the man I once knew."
"Yeah... Thanks again."
Sam hung up and immediately turned back. Now that he had a direction, he wasn't coming back until he found Meg and Dean. No matter what would happen, he was getting his family back. And John wasn't included in the word.
[page break]
The Roadhouse was a big building made of wood and dust with some neons flickering the bar's name. A couple of cars were parked at the front and a drunk man was trying to open his with shaking hands. Sam entered the smoky establishment and the rush of familiar smells was almost too heavy for him. He wasn't even back into the old hunters' routine. But sweat, blood and gunpowder? He had been raised with those smells. He would recognize it everywhere. It wasn't any bar. It was a hunter's roadhouse.
A dozen of men were in the room, some at the counters but most of all at single tables, drowning their sorrows in cheap booze. Three hunters were playing poker with a blond girl in a waitress' attire. Behind the counter, an older woman was drying a glass while talking with a man dressed in a business suit.
Sam walked by the tables to the spot where the brown-haired woman was. He put his impressive frame at use, letting her know that he was here on an important purpose. She gauged him before smiling, putting the glass on the counter and presenting her hand for him to shake it.
"Sam, I presume? Ellen Harvelle, the tired and desperate owner of this fine establishment. How can I help you find your brother?"
