Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!
Nancy sat against the trunk of a tree, trying to ignore the drops of mositure that landed on her hair and shoulders and the dampness of the ground. Phil sat against a tree opposite her, his elbows resting on his knees, massaging his temples in a bored, weary manner. Henrickson paced to and fro between them, playing with his gun, his jaw clenched. None of them could ignore the storm that had swept up out of nowhere, forcing them into burrowing under large shrubs for shelter. The storm ended some time near midnight, but the ground remained damp until dawn.
Which was when Henrickson had started pacing.
Nancy sighed and ran her hand over her forehead. She glanced at her watch.
"Its past nine, Henrickson. That count's as morning, right?" Phil called from the other tree, as if reading her thoughts. "They haven't come. They're not going to come."
"Give them a little more time," Henrickson began, but Nancy interrupted him.
"Victor, we can't just sit here. Can't we just go and check the house?"
Henrickson's jaw was working as he thought, his eyes staring in the direction of the Singer Salvage Yard. He was scared, Nancy realized. Scared of what he would find. She opened her mouth to tell him that they had to at least try, but at that moment Henrickson turned around and nodded.
"Okay, we'll go. You stay behind me and Phil until we know that everything's fine."
"I'm not helpless, Victor," she said, frowning, but she hovered behind them as they headed towards the house.
They broke through the tree line... and stopped dead.
Bobby's house was in ruins.
Half of it was still standing, but the half where the kitchen had been had collapsed, the skeletal wooden frames stretched out as if in the blind hope that the house could somehow rebuild itself. The jagged remains smoked slowly, fire flickering beneath some of the wooden pieces. Nancy stared at it in horror, her mouth opening in a small 'O' of shock. Dean... Bobby... Sam... oh my god... Henrickson strode forwards, stepping onto the wreckage, and part of it gave way. He pulled away but moved determindly forwards.
"Dean! Bobby!" he yelled, his voice strangely controlled.
Nancy glanced at Phil, who was apparently rooted to the spot. She grabbed his gun from him, steeled herself and followed Henrickson's lead.
"Dean? Can you hear me? Dean? Bobby?"
"Bobby!" Henrickson shouted. "Dean!"
Nancy took a quick look over her shoulder at Phil, who hadn't moved an inch. She stepped on a plank of wood which slid sideways beneath her, and she caught herself quickly. Henrickson let out a cry and crouched down suddenly.
"Victor?"
"I've got Bobby," he called. "I think he's okay... unconscious, but okay... you hearing me, Bobby?"
Nancy turned away, running her tongue over her lips. So Bobby was okay, but what about...
She caught sight of a boot sticking out amongst the rubble. She sucked in a small gasp and crouched down, laying down the gun so that she could push aside the rubble. Then she reached out and dragged Dean towards her, rolling him over. His face was coated in dust, and blood ran down from his temple. Apart from that he seemed unharmed. She breathed a soft sigh of relief.
"Dean?" she asked. "Dean, its me, Nancy. You okay?"
Dean's eyes flickered open and he looked up at her slowly. "Sam?" he muttered.
"We haven't found him yet."
"He's gone... vanished..."
"Huh?"
He shook his head and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Nancy reached out to help him, making sure he didn't fall back.
"Careful, you might have a concussion."
"M'fine," he replied, wiping at the blood on his face.
Nancy pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to him. He nodded gratefully and began to dab at his temple.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Dunno. He killed Lilith..."
"Sam?"
"Yeah. He killed her and then he just... he vanished. Like, into thin air." He looked up. "Where's Ruby?"
"I'm up here."
They both looked up at the bloodstained, scowling and clearly angry Ruby who was standing on the edge of the second floor of the standing part of the house. She leapt down, hardly even blinking as she landed, and strode towards him.
"Your brother," she spat, "Knocked me out. And it hurt."
"Good," Dean snapped back. "You were supposed to be taking care of him."
"No, I was supposed to be saving your arse," she replied coldly. "I didn't realize he would be that advanced after being catatonic for so long."
"Well, I'm sure a nice 'sorry' will make it all better," Dean said sarcastically.
"For what its worth, I am sorry. Sorry you didn't die in when the building came down!"
Dean opened his mouth to snap back, but Nancy interrupted them. "Guys, this isn't helping anyone! What about Bobby and Sam?"
"Bobby's just fine," Bobby called, clearly ruffled that he was considered a problem. "Where's Sam?"
"He's gone, Bobby," Dean shouted back, climbing awkwardly to his feet. "He just disappeared, just like that. We have to find him before-"
"We will," Bobby interrupted. "We will, okay?" He looked around at his house, and his face flickered. "Shit..."
"Sorry," Dean murmured.
"Wasn't you, son, wasn't any of us. Doesn't matter, I'll rebuild it or... something..." his voice trailed off as he looked around at the remains of his home. "Jesus..."
Nancy fingered the cross at her throat, sending a short prayer skywards for the others. Especially Sam.
What the hell happened? God, I hope he's okay...
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Sam drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time before he slowly began to pull himself towards being fully awake. He was lying on something that was very comfortable, which was strange because for the last few moments he could recall he had felt really, really, really bad. He had a vauge memory of being pulled and pushed and being wet and a pain in his head so great that he could hardly think. But now... now was nice.
He opened his eyes slowly and found himself staring at a photograph of a young laughing girl being hoisted high in the air by a man. The photo was standing on a clear glass coffee table, and on the other side of the table was a wall with a TV against it. Book shelves stretched out either side of the screen, filled with weird ornaments, more photos and the ocasional book. The floor was pannelled wood. He was lying on a yellow sofa with a pale cream duvet over him, his head resting against one of the arms. Someone had taken off his jacket and shirts but, thankfully, had left his jeans on. Which were damp... he shifted a little, frowning. His head didn't hurt anymore, but his nose felt strangely wet.
"Well, I am sick. Yeah, I know I don't sound it but that's... that's because I'm throwing up. Yeah. I feel like crap. I want to die. Uh-huh. I don't know, maybe next week? These stomach bugs are pretty unpredictable, you know? Yeah. Cool. Thanks Micky... what? Fine, I'm a shit liar, but don't tell the boss that. See ya."
He turned his head towards the voice, but the back of the sofa blocked his view. He tried to sit but but his head seared and he let out a small moan. He heard a small intake of breath from behind him, and then footsteps moving over. A few seconds later, a girl with shoulder length black hair and sparkling blue eyes came into view above him. She was slightly wet too, and her eyes flickered with concern as she looked down at him.
"Hey, mate. Sam?"
"Uh, yeah," he rapsed. His throat was dry. "Who're you?"
"I'm Cathy, I'm the person who saved your arse last night," she said, a little put out that he didn't remember. "I found you in the middle of the road, soaking wet, half dead. And you don't wanna know how hard it was getting you up those bloody stairs, you hardly helped at all."
"S'ry."
She looked a little uneasy. Then she turned and strode away, her cheeks flushing. "Damn, don't look at me like that. You're like a wounded puppy."
He felt a grin spreading over his face and tried to sit up again, but another wave of pain rushed through his head. He groaned, pressing a palm to his forehead.
"Didn't you get it the first time? Moving bad. So stay still."
Obiediantly, he stopped moving and lay still. He heard the sound of a tap running and wondered what she was doing. Then his head turned to more important questions: What the hell am I doing here? How the frick did I end up in this place? What happened to me? He turned his head as she returned and put a glass of water down on the coffee table before perching on the edge of it.
"Okay, c'mon." She reached out and took his shoulder, gesturing with her free hand that he should sit up. He raised one eyebrow.
"You just told me to stay still."
"And now I'm telling you to sit up. Unless you want a nice pink straw?"
He grimaced and then began to ease himself upwards. His head screamed in protest and he began to slip back, but she was there to hold him in place this time. She grabbed a large cushion and put it behind him, so that he could lean back and still be sitting up. Then she handed him the water. He accepted it gratefully and took a sip. She watched in silence. After a few moments, he looked up.
"What happened to me?"
"You don't remember?"
He shook his head. She sighed and folded her arms, leaning her elbows on her knees.
"Well, I sure as hell have no idea. You were just lying in the road. You think someone beat you up or something?"
He shook his head again. "I don't think so."
"Well, if it helps, you said 'Dean' quite a few times. Actually when we were getting up the stairs you yelled, 'Dean, please, I can't' and we almost got caught by Mrs. McRay."
"Dean?" Sam frowned.
The name meant something to him, sounded familiar and comforting, but he couldn't remember who Dean was. Cathy was watching him, waiting for some kind of response, so he shrugged.
"I dunno, I can't remember. I mean, I recognize the name but... I dunno."
She bit her lip. "Well, that's okay. Maybe it'll come back to you, huh?"
She reached into her pocket and brought out a tissue, and then held it out to him. He blinked at it, confused.
"Uh, that's okay, I'm not that upset."
"No, idiot, you're bleeding again."
"Bleeding?"
Rolling her eyes, she shifted forwards and dabbed at his top lip. The tissue came away bright red. He touched his nose and felt the blood, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"How long've I been doing that for?"
"Every hour or so. I've no idea what causes it."
"Huh."
He frowned. Cathy smiled suddenly and shrugged. "Never mind, probably nothing. You hungry? You wanna have some breakfast?"
Sam nodded, still looking at the blood. "Yeah, okay."
She grinned. "Good. Cos I do some mean bacon and egg."
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"I'm fine. Nancy let go of me, I'm fine!"
Dean brushed her hand away as she tried for the third time in half an hour to clean his temple. They had gone to the nearest motel, bringing with them what little they could salvage from Bobby's ruined home. Now, Dean paced around the room, his temper short, his eyes narrowed. Every time Nancy tried to clean him up a little he practically snapped her head off. Henrickson and Phil were sitting on one of the beds, Bobby on another fingering a cut on his cheek, and Ruby was slouched in an armchair with her legs over one of the arms. Dean circled them all endlessly, his teeth clenched as he thought.
"He's not answering his mobile," he muttered for the fourth time.
"He didn't have it, did he?" Henrickson shot back. "You looked through it 'cos you thought you might find some clue as to what was wrong."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean said irritably. He looked at Ruby. "Why the hell can't you find him? You said you could sense him."
"He let out a lot of power when he blew up that house, Dean," Ruby replied. "It'll take time for it to build up again, if it builds up at all. I've already told you that."
"Why hasn't he called? Where the hell did he go?"
"For god's sake, Dean, sit down and let Nancy patch you up," Bobby said, his own temper snapping. "You're not gonna help Sam right now, not with that concussion."
"I have not got a concussion!"
"Dean, please?" Nancy asked softly.
Dean scowled and threw himself down on one of the chairs, muttering coldly to himself. Nancy leapt forwards at once and began to clean him up. Dean sat waiting, one hand tapping insistently on his thigh, his knee jiggling up and down.
"But he has to be somewhere close," he burst out after a few moments. "I mean, he couldn't have gone far, right?"
"Dean, we - don't - know!" Henrickson said, balling his hands into fists.
"Just wait, Dean," Ruby replied at the same time, lifting a hand to her head. "I won't be able to hear anything when you're bawling in my ear all the time."
That shut him up. He ran his tongue over his lips, waiting impaitently for Nancy to finish cleaning the wound on his head. Then, when she finally moved away, he leapt up and began to pace again. Across the room, Phil sighed and rose to his feet.
"Okay, I'll see you guys."
"Huh?"
Henrickson wasn't the only one to look up in surprise: Bobby, Ruby and Nancy followed his gaze. Dean just kept pacing. Henrickson stood up, frowning.
"Phil, what're you talking about?"
"I've had enough of this, Henrickson," Phil replied, gesturing to the small motel room they were standing in. "All of this its just... its not my life. I'm sorry about Sam, really, but I'm not gonna be able to help and I've got a brother back home wondering where the hell I went. So, if you don't mind, I'm out."
Henrickson opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Take a cab, we'll need the truck," he muttered flatly, turning away.
Phil turned to Nancy. "Nancy? You coming?"
Nancy glanced at Dean, biting her lip, but Henrickson took her shoulder.
"I think you should go, Nancy. You've done enough for these guys, and Phil's right - this isn't your life."
"But Sam... I could help-"
"Yeah? Help how?"
Nancy fell silent, her eyes flicking between Henrickson, Dean and Phil. Then she sighed and nodded, moving to Phil's side.
"Okay. Will you call me, though? Just to let me know if things are okay?"
Henrickson nodded.
Phil took Nancy's hand and led her towards the door. She looked back at the others. "Bye," she said softly, and then even more quietly, "Bye, Dean."
He barely heard her, grunting distractedly in response. She pressed her lips together and then followed Phil from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.
Across the room, Bobby whistled and Henrickson turned to him.
"What?"
"'This isn't your life' huh?" Bobby asked. "Funny, how come you can say it to other people but other people can't say it to you?"
Henrickson's eyes narrowed. "Because I think that this is my life. And I've got nothing waiting for me back home."
Bobby just muttered something under his breath and went back to examining the cut on his cheek. Henrickson watched him for a few moments before crossing to the bed and sitting down again, resting his head in his hands. Ruby turned her eyes towards the ceiling once more, her shoulders heaving in a silent sigh.
Dean paced.
"Can't believe we're just sitting here doing nothing," he muttered.
No one said anything.
Dean stopped and looked out of the window. His brow furrowed slightly as he saw Nancy and Phil getting into a taxi. Had they said they were leaving? He had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. He raised his eyes to the sky as the taxi rolled away.
I'm gonna find you, Sam. I promise.
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Cathy was right - her bacon and eggs really were good.
Sam felt a little awkward sitting in her kitchen eating all her food. She had been so amazing, taking him in and feeding him like this. He didn't deserve it. Hell, he couldn't even remember what kind of person he had been before. She had borrowed some more jeans for him from someone living down the corridor who apparently owed her big time for a past favour, and had found one of her ex-boyfriend's T-shirts in the bottom of her wardrobe. Yes, ex-boyfriend. She was single.
And he liked her. She was chatty and breezy and completely mad at some points, but she was great to talk to. Already he knew that she had a brother, three sisters and a mum, because her dad had died in a car accident a few years back. Her eyes sparkled when she talked, lighting up like twin stars.
"So," she said suddenly. "I guess you can't really tell me much about you, right? I mean, unless you're completely faking and you're actually some kind of serial killer."
"There's always that," he agreed, grinning. He frowned. "I don't have any parents."
"You remember?"
"Not really, its just a feeling. But I'm pretty sure."
"Maybe Dean was your father?"
"Maybe." Sam rested his head against his fist. The headaches had become considerably better after he had eaten, dimming to a quiet throb in the back of his mind. Bearable. His nose kept bleeding though, like Cathy had said, at least every hour or two. It wasn't painful, just really annoying.
Cathy stood up, taking his empty plate to the sink and dumping it there along with hers. She turned to look at him, leaning back against a cabinet, and he span around on his stool to face her.
"I'll get outta here as soon as I can," he promised. "I mean, I can leave now if you like..."
"No, I don't mind." She flashed him a smile. "Its not every day I get to have a guy like you all to myself. It was getting kinda quiet around here."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Do you ever keep anything in your head?"
"Nope. Waste of time. It'll come out one day, why not make it now?" Cathy ran her hand through her hair, sighing through her nose. "Well, do you wanna do something? Watch some TV, go get some chocolate, whatever?"
"I don't... ah..." his voice trailed off as a sharp spear of pain rushed through his head. He put a hand to his forehead, wincing. "Uh, I'm... okay..."
Sam? What's wrong with you?
His stomach turned over. The voice was familiar and yet distant, and it scared the hell out of him.
Sammy... pick up where he left off... houdini outta this one... sonuvabitch...
Sam heard someone calling his name and felt hands gripping his shoulders. He forced his eyes open and lifted his head to see Cathy holding him, her eyes flickering with concern. He had slipped off his stool slightly - she must have caught him on his way down. Embaressed, he grabbed the table and pulled himself back on, wincing as his head seared.
"Sam?"
"I'm okay... sorry."
"What happened?"
"I... I dunno. There was this voice, like someone I knew, but I can't remember." He looked up at her, his hands trembling in his lap. "I can't remember..."
She shifted closer, putting her arm around him. "This is good, though. It means you're starting to remember little bits. So now it won't be long till the whole thing comes back, see?"
He grimaced. "Maybe."
Sammy? Sam! The voice sent icy shudders down his spine and he shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip.
He just didn't know what to think anymore.
Okay, that's your lot for now! Leave a review and tell me what you think and I'll stick up the next chapter for you. Hope you liked it, hope it wasn't boring!
SUPRNTRAL LVR.