I feel like a neglectful parent, sorry kid's slow update...but with all my coursework handed in I had time to add a new chapter ;) enjoy and review cos I love comments. BTW I don't have a beta reader so forgive any spelling mistakes.
January 21st- 10:28pm
'One...two...three'! John yelled as he and Dean simultaneously kicked in the wooden door. The door smashed and shattered sending wood all over the basement. John entered first, one hand yielding his clock 80 while the other held a flashlight that shone light into the room. Dean followed closely behind with Caleb and Mac following up the rear. The basement was damp, dark and filled with the sounds of scurrying rats.
Each hunter shone their lights from left to right, in every nook and cranny from ceiling to floor. Nothing. They found nothing. No signs of sulphur, no signs of demons and worse no sign of Sam. Dean's shoulders dropped, he was so sure that Sam was being held here. Even though Sam had been gone for only 3 months, it felt like three years. Weirdly Dean was struggling to remember what Sam looked like; he was constantly pulling out the photo from his wallet of Sam and himself that was taken in October at Bobby's house. In the photo he and Sam were sat side by side on Bobby's beaten old couch, right before Bobby took the picture Dean slung his arm around his little brother and whispered a filthy joke into Sam's ear, they both burst out laughing and the moment was encapsulated in time forever.
John felt the pain in his chest tighten again, like a vice squeezing the life out of him. His boy is not here, this is the 53rd building they have raided thinking that Sam would be inside somewhere hurt and scared. But no. He is not here. John could see how Sam's disappearance was weighing heavily on everyone, especially Dean. John looked over his shoulder at his eldest, Dean's shoulders were slumped, and he had bags under his eyes which were rimmed red from crying (that he tried to hide).
All of John's hunter friends were working around the clock trying to find his youngest. Bobby's house had become a command centre, Ellen and Bill had been spreading news of Sam's abduction to every hunter that entered the Roadhouse. Caleb had been trying to psychically link with Sam for months; he'd also contacted numerous other psychics to see if it took two psychics to make contact. All of them were pulling out all of the stops to bring John's boy home; but after 3 months the trail was cold.
John walked over to his eldest and pulled him into a hug. Dean allowed himself to be held, he used to shy away from all the touchy feely girly crap he called it, but lately it seemed both John and Dean just needed human contact.
Caleb exchanged a quick glance with his father Mac before walking to the far corner of the room. Caleb reached out and touched the wall with his palms; he then closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling the echoes of the room. He felt sorrow and death in the room, but Sam's psychic ora (which Caleb knew off by heart) was not imbedded in the room. Caleb sighed and shook his head at the hopeful glances that the Winchesters were sending his way.
John cleared his throat and said in a disappointed voice 'Okay, let's go guys'. All of the men nodded and slowly piled out of the room that once held their hopes of finding Sam. They all climbed into their respective vehicles and began the long and quiet drive back to Bobby's house.
John thought how bare and lifeless the impala felt without Sam's constant nattering from the backseat. John smiled at the memories of his youngest in the car, a 9 year old Sam sat on his dads lap steering the car down a deserted road, a 7 year old Sam asleep in the backseat curled up next to his brother, a 3 year old Sam practising his alphabet so loud that every other car on the road could also hear. But now. Now it was dead silence, only the slow intake of breath from himself and Dean.
SPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSP SPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSP
Bobby rubbed a hand over his tired face and closed the book he was reading. Rumsfeld who sat in the corner of Bobby's living room lifted his head from his front paws and looked at Bobby expectedly.
Bobby sighed. 'Sorry boy, haven't found anything'. Rumsfeld whined and lowered his head back on his paws. Bobby chuckled to himself, three months ago when everyone arrived at Singer Salvage to group together to look for Sam, Rumsfeld had ran to the door like he always does when he heard the familiar rumble of the impalas engine and was ready to pounce and tackle Sam to the ground; but when everyone else except Sam entered, the dog began to whine and howl. They say that dogs can sense the supernatural, and boy did Rumsfeld sense something was wrong.
Sam had always been Rumsfeld's favourite human, ever since Sam was the one that picked him up out of the litter at the animal shelter as Bobby's new junk yard dog. Sam was the one who played with the dog, snuck food to the dog under the dinner table, and Rumsfeld would always sleep at the end of Sam's bed whenever Sam stayed at his uncles.
Bobby smiled at the memories and looked over at his dog that looked more tired than he did, Rumsfeld used to be a handful always bringing the dead birds and squirrels he captured into the house, always barking and running from room to room knocking over anyone that got in his way. But now, the dog was quiet and lifeless, he didn't bark, he hardly ate, all he did was sleep on Sam's empty bed all day.
Bobby lifted himself from his chair in front of the fire and walked over to his dog to scratch him behind the ears.
'I know boy, but we'll find him'.
Suddenly the familiar rumble of the impala filled the air. Bobby patted his dog once more before walking into the kitchen and putting on a pot of coffee. He knew the guys needed it.
The trail for Sam was pretty much none existent, they were following demonic signs because of the sulphur in the motel room, Bobby was researching all day and night looking for cattle mutilations, thunder storms, power failures but demons were all over the place and there was no way of knowing which demon had Sam but Bobby prayed, he prayed to god that what he found recently would be the key to bringing Sam home. Bobby knew, in his heart that if Sam was dead he would feel it, and he wasn't about to give up any dam time soon.
Bobby heard the thud of the car doors and trunks before footsteps made their way to the front door. None of the hunters bothered knocking nowadays they just let themselves in and dumped their duffle bags in the hall way. Bobby could tell instantly from their facial expressions that Sam hadn't been found.
Dean headed straight for the room that he used to share with Sam, and bonelessly fell onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours until he heard Rumsfeld scratching at the door. Dean and his dad had been staying at Bobby's for the whole three months of Sam's disappearance only leaving the house to look for Sam, supply runs and breathing space when arguments got heated; and every night that Dean has been in this house Rumsfeld has scratched on the door to gain entry to fall asleep on Sam's bed. And for most of those nights Dean has left his bed and slept on Sam's that's furthest away from the door.
Dean finally shifted his aching body and walked to the door, Rumsfeld slowly made his way from the open door to Sam's bed; he circled three times before laying his head down on his front paws and staring at Dean.
'Don't make yourself to comfortable'. Dean said as he stripped off his clothes and changed into his sweat pants and faded black ACDC t-shirt. He then pulled out the picture of him and Sam from his wallet and placed it on the nightstand between the two beds. Dean then pulled up the sheets on Sam's bed, which was difficult because Rumsfeld refused to shift and help and climbed into the bed. Dean thought it was quite ironic him climbing into Sam's bed when Sam would always climb into his bed; whether he was cold, sick or scared he would always go to his big brother. Dean thought back to when their dad had left them at Bobby's for a few weeks while he went on a hunt.
'Dean. . . Dean . . . wake up'. Dean had been roused by the persistent voice of his little brother while being roughly shaken. Dean rolled over and looked at his 4 year old brother. Sam's eyes were wide and teary and his bottom lip was trembling.
'Uuumm Sammie what's up?' Dean whispered not wanting to wake up his uncle.
Sam opened his mouth to speak when suddenly a loud rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning illuminated the darkened room. Sam covered his ears with his hands and buried his head in the blankets of the bed.
Dean picked up his brother and pulled him over his body to the other side of the bed, Sam's arms clung to his brother's neck as Dean tucked his brothers sobbing and shaking form in next to himself. Dean proceeded to stroke his brother's hair and whisper soothingly into his ear 'SSSShhh Sammie it's okay, it's just thunder, don't be scared little brother, I'm here. . .I'm here '. Dean continued to comfort his brother until Sam's breathing evened out and he went limp in Dean's arms.
Dean smiled at the memory of Sam and himself and wished that he could hold his brother, he didn't even get to say goodbye to Sam the night he disappeared. 'I hope you're okay Sammie, we will find you little brother I promise'. Dean whispered praying that he would be reunited with Sam soon. Dean continued to absently scratch Rumsfeld behind the ears as he let himself drift off to sleep.
SPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSP SPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSP
Bobby looked over at John, Dean, Mac and Caleb. The three oldest hunters nodded to Bobby whereas Dean by passed them all and went straight into his room. Bobby sighed and looked over at John.
John gave him half a smile as Bobby passed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Bobby then pulled out a brown folder full with papers.
John immediately perked up. 'You gotta lead?'
Bobby smiled and started pulling out newspaper clippings, maps and weather reports. 'Yeah, there are some pretty hefty demons signs in Chicago Illinois, some cattle mutilations, power failures it only started 2 days ago but more importantly a local church reported one of their angels of mercy statues started crying blood'.
Johns mind was running a mile a minute 'That could be our demon'.
Caleb's face scrunched up in confusion. 'Wait what, what's Sam got to do with angel statues'
John ran a hand over his face and turned to his friends 'Me and the boys were in Michigan because of werewolf attacks but after Sam disappeared churches around our motel were reporting that statues of the angel of mercy were crying blood, locals chalked it up to local teenage vandals being creative but I looked back at the news reports of the house fires involving six mouth old children and the churches near those houses also reported statues crying blood'.
Mac stood dumbfounded at his friend 'So you mean'
John nodded 'Yeah, this isn't just the demon that took Sam; this is the demon that killed my wife.
The whole room was silent; Mac and Caleb were still trying to comprehend what they had just been told.
John stood up and placed his mug in the sink. I've always assumed that the demon that killed Mary was after Sam, she died in his nursery...I don't know why demons want my boy but they sure as hell aren't keeping him. . . we leave at first light'.
To be continued. . .