Sam Winchester liked to believe he had many good qualities. Qualities that made him a mature adult who could present well in a job interview. He wouldn't be the first to say he was a good person, he knew he wasn't flawless. But years and years of struggling to bear the guilt he has built up made him at least see what he was good at.
Responsible? Check.
Organized? Check.
Ability to work well with others, even the most difficult people? Dean-sized check.
But New York City managed to take all those qualities, jumble them into a ball, and toss them aside. The place was overwhelming, and Sam found himself suspicious towards everything. Senses and precautions he had used well over the years were suddenly on overdrive, struggling to keep an eye on every dark corner, every suspicious person, every loud sound. Being a hunter put his qualities to good use on a regular basis, but this time it was too much.
There were way too many variables.
So he didn't notice when right away when Pip went missing. He had no idea when the moment occurred, but he eventually realized that she wasn't there anymore. One moment she was there, and the next, she wasn't. The realization that he couldn't see her red coat bobbing in front of him anymore jolted him out of his overwhelmed state and he skidded to a stop.
"Pip?" he called. A wave of faces passed by him, but none of them Pip. He called her name again, craning his neck and using his height to scan the crowd. Nothing.
"Dean," he tried instead. His eyes razed the throng of people for his brother's familiar figure. Dean was nowhere to be found. The realization that he had gotten separated slowly sunk in.
"Dammit," Sam cursed. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone for the hundredth time. At least this time it wasn't to look at the address he'd been constantly checking. His fingers fumbled as he hit the speed-dial for his brother's phone. While the phone rang he jammed his hand into his pocket, searching the sidewalk around him. His leg bounced impatiently. He knew something was bound to go wrong in New York, he just hadn't expected it so soon.
"This is Dean―," the voicemail began, but Sam dropped the phone from his ear and hung up before it finished. He let out a frustrated grunt and moved to shove the phone back in his pocket when a hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder.
Sam's hand immediately flew to the knife tucked into his pants and whirled around.
"Sam." Dean's face glared back at Sam. "What the hell happened? Where were you?"
"Dean," Sam breathed, reassuring himself by saying his brother's name. "I don't know, I guess we got separated by the crowd." He peered around his brother. "Where's Pip?"
Dean's hand tightened on his brother's shoulder. "That's what I was wondering. She's not with you?"
Sam muttered another curse and shook his head, his long hair falling into his face. He ran a quick hand through it and searched the sidewalk again as if she would magically appear. "I guess we all got lost."
Dean shuffled from foot to foot a bit, his jaw working. His eyes flickered around as he avoided looking at Sam. "Maybe she's not lost, Sam," he finally said.
Sam shot his brother a side glance. "Dean," he warned.
Dean didn't back down. "Sam, maybe she doesn't want to be found."
Sam's face twisted at the expression his brother was wearing. As if he was a parent trying to tell their kid about a pet's death. Like Sam wasn't able to comprehend whatever loss Dean thought Sam would feel. Sam swallowed the sharp retort that leapt to his mind, turning to stare at one of the brightly lit shops that sat next to them.
He wasn't stupid or naive. They knew practically nothing about Pip, and Pip knew nothing about them. What Sam did know he figured out himself. The girl was an open book; she was flighty, scared, and stuffed with secrets. It was obvious she was hiding something from them and it wasn't much of a surprise that she would run away. He shouldn't care, and he shouldn't trust her. But some part of him was already doing both of those things and it only made him more frustrated.
But he wouldn't admit to his brother that he was already making those mistakes. So he went for the logical route.
"We still need to find her, Dean," he responded. He swung his gaze to meet his brother's eyes, matching Dean's stare. "Remember why we first looked for her, what happened in that town. Maybe she's telling the truth when she says it wasn't her choice, or maybe she's not. But if she isn't, we can't let her run around loose in a city like this. And if she is telling the truth, then maybe she really is lost. Either way, we need to find her."
Dean's look sharpened as he studied Sam, and Sam knew he was searching to see if there was more to Sam's explanation. Sam kept his face blank, hiding his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was a lecture from Dean about trust.
"Fine," Dean finally replied. He dropped his hand from Sam's shoulder and Sam relaxed. "I hope you have a plan, then."
"No," Sam admitted. "But I'll figure something out."
"We'll figure something out," Dean corrected. He brushed off the show of camaraderie and shouldered his brother aside and started walking.
Sam let out a small sigh before following his brother.
...
Pip walked three blocks before truly admitting that she was lost. She had no idea where the brothers were or how to find them.
Chewing on her lip, she turned a full circle, scanning her surroundings again. A low buzz hummed from the neon sign next to her, bright letters advertising some sort of clothing store. Horns honked in the distance. Until a loud one blared near her and she jumped.
She had no idea what to do. She'd been moving in a straight line, hoping to catch up to the brothers. Did they turn somewhere? She didn't have one of those cell phones she saw the brothers using before. Even if she did have one, she didn't know how to use them. Don't they require numbers or something? she thought, distracted. She had no clue what number reached the Winchesters.
She couldn't go to the police, not since her father revealed he had people connected to the police. Maybe it wasn't everywhere, but she would take no chances.
Her fingers curled, rubbing against the rose scar. She didn't want to call Ollie either.
Do they notice I'm gone? she asked herself. Her eyes drifted over the sidewalk, examining the people around her. She rubbed at her forehead, trying to chase away a headache that was beginning to form there. Her stomach decided to growl then.
She reached inside her coat pocket, gently touching the bills tucked in there. At least Sam had given her some money. She didn't know where they were going or how to find Sam and Dean, but at least she had that.
Turning sharply on her heel, she picked a direction and started to walk. She didn't know where people went to find information, but perhaps a restaurant would be helpful. And food would help her think.
She ignored Amon's grumbling in her head as she searched for a place to eat. Her search didn't take very long before she found a place.
The building advertised food and drinks in bright flashing signs. Murphy's Pub was plastered on the window along with an assortment of other names she assumed were brand names. Her feet hesitated at the doorway and she tilted her head back to peer up at the sign. The door was propped open despite the chilly air, and music and the smell of food spilled out onto the sidewalk.
The place was stuffed to the brim with people. There was a counter to the right where numerous patrons sat, hunched over whatever was in front of them. An assortment of bottles cluttered the wall behind the bar. To the left sat a few small, squat wooden tables filled with more customers. The very back of the building held what looked like game tables that groups of people clustered around, shouting. Everything seemed dirty and dingy.
Pip's stomach growled again and she shoved away her hesitation. She didn't know what a pub was, but it had food and people. That's all she needed. More people meant more information; she had nothing to be afraid of.
Mostly. The thought soured in her head.
Rolling her shoulders back, she straightened and held up her chin as she marched to the counter. She had no idea what to do, but there were several others sitting there so it seemed like the right move.
A man stood behind the counter, pouring a drink and fiddling with one of the levers. His head was bald but he had a bushy red beard covering a thick neck. The man was large, with broad shoulders and thick arms that made Pip think of tree trunks. Several tattoos decorated his arms and neck. He looked up as Pip sat in one of the stools and raised a brow at her. "Uh... can I help you?" His voice sounded gravelly.
She stiffened as he addressed her, realizing how big the man was now that she was in front of him. Pip avoided looking at him and carefully scooted the stool forward. The thing was rickety and wobbled as she moved it. When she was close enough to the counter, she set her elbows down on the wooden top and settled her face into a confident mask. "Yes, I am hungry and would like some food and drink."
"Uh huh," the man responded, his voice dry. He mirrored Pip and folded his arms on the counter as well, giving her a hard stare. His whole frame hunched over to meet her eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have an ID with you, would you?" His expression was sardonic.
Pip leaned away slightly, her eyes glancing around nervously. ID? Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she quickly smoothed her face. "I have money," she reassured him. Maybe that was what caused his suspicion. For once she wasn't planning on stealing food.
Her statement seemed like the wrong one because the man's face quickly hardened. "Look, kid," he said, his voice rough. "You hardly look old enough to even walk in here much less sit at the bar. I've seen some stupid attempts, but yours takes the cake."
Pip blinked in surprise. The man's words made no sense at all. What cake is he talking about? "There is an age limit for food?" she asked instead, bewildered.
The man's eyes narrowed and she flinched at his dark look. Apparently she kept choosing the wrong thing to say.
He craned his neck to look around her, tugging lightly at his beard. The thick red hairs of it almost reached what he called the bar. "Damn tables are full," he muttered. Pip glanced over her shoulder as well, unsure if he was talking to her and expected a response.
Her stomach growled then and she winced as the sound of it drew his eyes back to her. He studied her silently for a few moments. "Are you planning on getting any drinks with your food?" he asked finally.
"Um, do you have any water?" she queried.
The man's expression melted from distrust to a baffled look. "Yeah, all right then," he responded. His thick red brows lowered over his eyes as he stared at her. "You can sit here, just no alcohol. I'll get you a menu."
Oh, Pip thought. Alcohol. "Thank you," she said. Her fingers picked at the edge of the bar as she watched him walk away. She would have many questions when he came back, and hopefully he had some answers.