CHAPTER THREE: DISCOVERING IN RECOVERY

"This looks like as good a place as any." Dean announced as he pulled the car into a deserted motel parking lot.

The elder Winchester's eyes were burning from fatigue and his stomach rumbled.

"Why don't you go get us something to eat from that gas station we just passed." He said. "I'll go get checked in."

Sam gladly took the twenty bucks his brother handed him. Opening the car door he unfolded his tall, lanky form, stretching out knotted muscles.

"Be back in a few minutes." Sam said as he started walking the block to where the gas station lights flickered ominously. He prayed it was just a power shortage somewhere and held his breath until the lights steadied. "Anything specific you want, Dean?"

"Food." Dean answered sarcastically over his shoulder as he elbowed open the door to the motel lobby.

"Right. Food." Sam muttered under his breath with an eye roll.

--

That night, for the first time in eighteen days, both boys got a full night of sleep uninterrupted by nightmares or visions of death. The next morning the sun's light stroked their faces softly, waking them to a new day.

Dean sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes - not even noticing, in his sleepy haze, that there had been no phantom burns or accompanying memories of the fires. He yawned and threw a pillow at his still-snoring brother.

"Wakey, wakey, Sam." He huffed when this had no affect on the dark haired man. "Wake up, damn it, or I'm going to start singing."

Sam was up, the blankets thrown off, at the threat. The last thing he ever wanted to hear after waking up in the morning was the sound of his brother's singing. He winced at the memory of their "Christmas caroling" months before. Yawning, he stretched his arms above his head.

"What time is it?"

Dean looked for a clock, but the room did not seem to have one. "Damned if I know."

"Watch." Sam pointed out sharply.

"Oh." Dean looked down at the forgotten time-keeper. "It's, uh, 5:30 in the morning."

"Good, that will give us at least 300 miles before nightfall if we leave right away." Sam said.

"Yeah, and I finally think I know where we need to go." Dean said quietly. It had been preying on his mind for a week now, but he had wanted to be sure before mentioning it to his brother.

"Where's that?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Home. Lawrence."

"Why home?" Sam asked defensively.

He felt his body tense at the memories of that building and of seeing his mother burning up. Sam blinked away tears and took a deep breath, reigning in his emotions.

"How can going back there help anything?"

"'Cause."

"Oh, compelling argument." Sam snapped.

Dean knew this would be hard on his brother, hell it was hard on him, but he also knew that it was the right thing to do. Their mother had given up a part of her soul in that house and if she was connected to any thing or any place, it would be there. Dean began packing his own duffel bag, avoiding his brother's accusing gaze.

"It just feels right."

"And you always call me the illogical one!"

At that, Dean straightened and glared at his brother. They stood in charged silence, staring at each other from opposite sides of the motel room. Each wordlessly expressing their opinion on the matter. Finally, Sam turned his head away.

"Fine. We'll do this your way, Dean." He conceded in a low voice. "But when nothing comes of it, I'll be saying I told you so."

Dean grinned and shrugged. "I'm the oldest…I know that this is the right thing to do."

Sam chuckled. "Just like you know everything, right?"

"Damn straight."

--

The drive was long and silent, except for the occasional monosyllable response to an equally short question. Dean enjoyed the feel of the wheel, his foot barely letting up on the gas pedal as they journeyed back to their childhood home. Many times Dean had wondered just what their lives would have been like growing up if they had never lived in that house. He wondered if it would have changed anything.

Sam watched the scenery pass by, but his mind was focused on thoughts of darkness. Every moment of every day for the past several months he had been acutely aware of his abilities - those special powers that made him something more than human. A boiling pit of emptiness threatened to darken his mood and he decided it would be best to get some sleep instead of brooding on such uncertain topics. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the window.

"Wake me when we get there." He mumbled to his brother.

Dean glanced over at Sam and frowned. He knew how difficult things were on the younger Winchester. As always, the dark haired man took things harder than others. Knowing that he had made a grievous mistake in giving in to his dark powers had left him vulnerable to the worst kind of torture. Self-torture. Guilt and doubts. If it was the last thing Dean did, he would make his little brother whole again. No more nightmare filled dreams, no more angry mood swings. Gripping the wheel tighter in his hands, Dean swore he would fix things for Sam.

As day slid into dusk and then night the black Impala sped down highways and back roads on a desperate run to reach Lawrence, Kansas. The radio blasted rock music of yesteryear with the occasional accompaniment of a tiring Dean. Mile post after mile post flashed by in a blur of green until finally the Impala's bright headlights illuminated an all-to-familiar rusted sign. Lawrence.

"Dude, we made it." Dean slapped his brothers shoulder. "We're here, Sam."

"Mph."

Sam sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Home?" He asked in a groggy drawl.

"Minutes away."

--

They pulled up to the shadow clothed building, Dean bringing the car to a slow stop. The tree that had stood in front of the house was gone, replaced by finely manicured lawn, and the outside had been repainted a garish yellow. The house lights were on downstairs, but the upstairs was dark. As they watched, three teenage girls walked past the living room window, giggling and whispering into each others ears.

"Looks like new home owners." Dean said with a sigh.

He proved correct when an older man and woman came into view, both unfamiliar to the brothers.

"Well, this is going to make things a little harder." Sam said.

"You think?"

The Winchesters knew that there was nothing stopping them from entering that house and looking for any supernatural trace their mother may have left behind. They had weapons, experience and nothing to lose. The only thing holding them back was the knowledge that the family inside that house was blissfully unaware of the dangers it had once housed. Never in a million years would they wish even a sliver of their lives onto someone else. No, they would wait until the new home owners were gone and then they would do what needed to be done.

"Hotel?" Sam asked in a resigned tone.

"Hotel." Dean agreed, putting the car into gear.

The people in the house never noticed the black Impala, it's occupants tired, worn and emotionally weary. Laughter and happiness filled the house that now belonged to two up-and-coming authors and their three daughters. A stark contrast to the fractured history of the Winchester's time there before the fire. The new owners had never even heard of the fire.

Fates cruel humor.

--

"You should have seen the look on your face, Dean!" Sam burst out into laughter, holding his side. "I thought you were going to pop that waitress in the mouth when she said that."

Dean shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation. "Yeah, well, she shouldn't have said it."

Sam could hear the undercurrent of anger in his brother's tone, but somehow that just seemed to add to the humor of the situation. After all, it was not every day that Dean was thrown so completely. At least, not for several days. Sam sobered at the thought. His brother was healing, recovering from everything Hell had thrown at him. It brought a sparkle of hope to Sam's eyes and he looked over at his brother, who still fumed at his slip earlier in the diner, glad that they were together again.

"We should go back tomorrow morning. It's a school day, so that takes care of the kids, and if both parents work then it should be the best time for us to get in there."

Dean considered the suggestion. "Sounds good enough for me."

"I'll order pizza." Sam volunteered as he reached for the room phone.

Dean organized his things, which meant pulling them out of the green bag and haphazardly strewing them about on his bed. He picked up a few shirts, giving each a strong sniff before finally settling on a white and blue t-shirt that smelled fresh enough. He shrugged off his old, dirty shirt and threw it onto the pile of clothes.

"We're going to have to find a laundry mat too." He muttered with a grimace.

He hated doing laundry, but it was a necessity. Maybe - he glanced slyly over at his brother from the corner of his eye - he could sweet talk his Sam into doing the job instead. Domestic chores never really seemed to bother the younger Winchester.

--

They stood outside the door to the empty house - they had made sure that the owners were out for the day - neither wanting to take that final step that would take them over the threshold of the doorway. Sam cleared his throat after a few moments of strained silence. He held out his arm in invitation.

"This was your idea, Dean."

The elder Winchester frowned at the truth of the words and with a steadying breath he pushed his way into the house. It was quiet, filled with alien furniture and pictures of a smiling, happy family. He fooled the familiar hallway into the kitchen. Dean could still see the ghostly form of his mother as she had been years before when they had come back on the heels of Sam's disturbing vision.

"What now?" Sam asked, he looked around the room for any clue that would explain why his older brother had brought them there. He saw nothing but a new kitchenette set and a few sprouting plants on the windowsill over the sink. It was the typical American kitchen with no lingering visual scars to attest to the horrible ordeals it had witnessed.

"I think we need to summon Mom." Dean spoke hesitantly. He was not sure at all that it was the right move, but in his long career as a Hunter experience had taught him the hard way that following his gut instincts rarely led him astray. "I've got the stuff in my bag."

"I'll run out to the trunk." Sam volunteered, swallowing hard at the emotions brought out under the pressure of memories. "Be right back."

Once his brother had left, the front door closing with a soft click behind him, Dean let his defenses fall. His gaze moved upward to the ceiling.

"Mom? Can you hear me?" His voice broke painfully. "I need to know that you can hear me. Mom, please."

There was no response from the oppressive silence. A loneliness descended on him, coming from that place in his heart that he had tried so hard to keep covered up when around Sam. The lost and broken pieces of his soul that Hell had torn wide open. It consumed him now, that emptiness that had been his only company in Hell. A single tear teetered on the edge of his lashes before plunging down his cheek to slip off his chin and drip to the floor. A silent testament to the pain he had been forced through.

"I got it, Dean!" Sam's voice came from the front of the house.

Footsteps approached down the hallway and Dean quickly wiped away the sign of his weakness. He pulled on a brave, calm face.

"Good." He rubbed his hands together. "Lets get started."

--

The summoning ritual was almost complete. Five more minutes and the boys would finally know what had happened to their mother, Mary Winchester. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up at the thought.

The door opened, they both turned in that direction in surprise. Exchanging worried glances, Dean and Sam each reached for their personal weapons. Dean, the pistol he kept in a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. Sam, the gun tucked in the small of his back. Weapons at the ready the two men stood slowly, falling into the old routine. Dean in front, on the left of the hallway entrance, Sam on the right a step behind.

There was a muttering of voices and then the sound of several people moving up the stairs. Then silence.

"Well, this can't be good." Dean whispered.

"You think?" Sam replied darkly. "We have to get this stuff cleaned up and out of here before someone comes downstairs. We'll just have to come back another time."

Dean felt himself losing it at the thought that they had come so close to having answers only to be foiled at the last moment. He knew his brother was right. It only took them a few moments to scoop everything from the kitchen table into their duffle bag, the ritual ingredients mixing together in a jumbled mess.

With one last look to make sure they had not missed anything by accident, Dean followed Sam out the back door and then they made their way around the front to where the Impala sat, a stoic guard.

--

"Talk about bad luck." Dean complained when they made it back to their room. "Ten more minutes and we would have had answers."

"Maybe." Sam replied, still not convinced that their desperate search for answers would reveal anything at all.

Dean rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. "Come on, man. You've got to give me a little trust on this one, okay."

"I am, Dean. I mean, hell, I helped you break into some poor family's house and - ." Sam looked over at his brother and stopped abruptly.

Dean let his legs collapse out from under him, sending him to the floor in a graceless slump. He held his hands, fisted, over his ears a low moan escaping between clenched teeth.

"Dean, are you alright? Dean!" Sam knelt at his brother's side. It only took a moment to recognize the hurt filled, anguished look in Dean Winchesters eyes another moment passed by and then Sam realized the cause. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to say he- I didn't mean to say it."

Sam had tried to be careful around his brother, but Dean had been making so many improvements in the past few weeks it was becoming harder and harder to remember just how broken his brother really was inside. Twice before he had made the mistake of using the curse word 'hell' in his brother's hearing and each time it left the older man a mess. Sam wanted to kick himself for committing the same error yet again.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. Everything's going to be alright. I'm here, you're safe and no one is going to hurt you."

The single, carelessly used word had been an instant, irresistible reminder of the real place. That place of blinding pain and hopelessness. Dean bowed his head, ashamed of the weakness that he could not seem to shake. He was suppose to be the older brother - the strong one.

"It's alright, Dean." Sam spoke softly.

Dean took a deep, ragged breath and blew it out slowly to calm his nerves. After another few moments he felt collected enough to stand. He pushed his brother away in a gentle shove.

"I'm fine now, dude." He reassured the younger man with a wan smile. "Once we get back home….figure out what's really going on - I'll be a lot better then, but for now I'm fine."

Sam watched him closely through long bangs. He wished that he could just believe the reassurances, wished that he did not know the truth. His brother would take a long, long time to be fine.