AN: Hi guys, I couldn't believe that I keep updating this story. Usually, I'll hold on for more than a couple of days to update since I wanna see how it's going but for you, this is the new chapter. But a big WARNING! here because this is a Self-Destruction Dean chapter. Hope you like it. And don't try this at home.

Beta'ed: by Green Raven 212. COOOOOOOOOKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS for you. Phew, that's a big ones.

Summary: See Chapter 1

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1


Distant and Faded

Chapter VIII

Recklessly pulling the car over to the side of the dark road, Dean stumbled out of the Impala as he banged the door hard. His knees bent under him, sliding his back against the hard metal door.

He drew a shaking breathless sigh, closing his eyes shut and hit the back of his head to the cold metal. One of his hands still clutching the phone hard. Somebody called him a couple of times but after that it went silent and he didn't bother to look at the name.

"Damn! Damn it!" slipping the words carelessly, he hit his head back to the car each time.

It was his birthday and nobody was with him. He was alone. It was not that he was too desperate to hear a birthday wish or something, but recently, he couldn't help from feeling like a useless bastard. He just needed somebody, somebody that reminded him a feeling of home, of love, of family.

Dad.

Or Sammy.

They were family before. Even when their life was not as bright as the other families, but it was enough for him. He was happy. They were together.

As family.

But now, he was left behind, he was a loner, he was useless. Nobody ever needed him anymore.

Sam has his own new life. He got friends. He got school. He got everything he ever wanted before. When Sam left, he thought that the boy would be back, or at least call him once in a while, telling him that he still needed his big brother. But Dean was wrong. Sam was happy without him. He didn't even want to talk to him. He tried once before and he should know better now. Today's call was a mistake. Sam never remembered his birthday.

He never remembered the day he claimed he would never forget.

He never remembered the day he once said was the best day ever because that day, God gave a life to a person who became the most important person in his life.

It was all a lie.

Sam never remembered.

And Dad.

Dad was never the one he thought his dad was before. He was stupid. He should see it coming. Dad never needed him. He was never important. As soon as Sam left, they were barely hunting together. Everytime he came up with a new hunt, asking John to kill the son of a bitch together, he always being thrown away. Dad said that he was big enough, he could solo hunt anytime he wanted, telling him that it was the time to achieve what he wanted before.

And again, it was all a lie.

When Sam was with them before, Dad never really let him hunt alone. 'We needed to watch each other. We needed to be together.' And that were exactly the phrases that spurted out from the eldest himself everytime he wanted to run a simple solo hunt. Then why he kept sending him away after that?

Was Sam the only reason to keep him by his father's side? Was Sam the only reason for his dad to tell him how much the family needed him?

To take care of his brother.

He was not complaining. He was willing to do that even when there was no straight order for it. It was his job. But was it the truth? That John just told him all of that not because he was needed in his father's life, but he just being used like Sam always said to him.

That he was just a little soldier, not a son.

The vibration was back from the black gadget in his hand and pulled him out of the thought. 'Dad'. The three letters appear on the screen. Gripping the phone hard, he held his breathing for a while, wanting to feel the other side of life all of the sudden. He didn't know if he wanted to hear the voice. It might be just an order to go to the place they should meet.

It was not going to be a birthday wish.

And it might not be a concern question about him.

So, why would he care?

Should he ever care about a motel in Idaho? Should he concern about that?

No, nobody was there except a man who he should doubt by now ever admitting him as a son.

Slowly, he just let the phone slipped down from his palm onto the light stoned surface, leaving the vibration and the ringtone crazily crying for a pick up. The light from the phone was the only light that torching his face in the dark, making visible the pool of waters that started to showed up from the green eyes.

Dean sighed, clutching the eyelids together, resisting the tears from running down as if they would remind him of how weak he really was. He stood up slowly, swaying a little from a slight dizzy spell that came out of no where. He pulled the door open, throwing down his own weight into the leather seat with a huff.

The song from the phone was still singing outside of the car but his mind was starting to slip away for a countless times that night. His eyes fixed up onto the dark road, looking at nothing. After a while, a glimpse of light came out to view, silently telling him that a vehicle was coming up front.

And all of the sudden, the look in his eyes turned out so cold, so deadly that could send anybody to their graveyard just by taking a look at it. His hand slowly spun the key, starting the engine with a purr. The light was already never turned off since he first stopped there. Tuning into the first gear, he moved the car slowly onto the road, leaving the phone singing alone behind.

The Impala was moving for a couple of yard before his foot hit the break, letting the big black metal auto made a present in the middle of the old asphalt, silently. The previous light was moving closer but still far away.

Dean took one more glance to his front, judging the distant between the two vehicles. He turned off the engine suddenly before turning off the headlights of the Impala, hiding the visible car in the blanket of the dark night. Leaning his back softly against the seat, he calmly locked his eyes to a red truck that started to show its full form into the view.

The truck was speeding into his way but Dean knew he was still invisible from the driver's eyes. The weather and the dark clouds in the sky made it nearly impossible to see his baby. Until their distance was about fifteen yards away, the red truck seemed to start to hold down its speed, the horn started to sound and the light was started to flash out a few times.

But it was too late now.

Dean looked at the sky with a small smile. They don't want me, maybe after all I always belong to your side, mom.

"I'm sorry Dad, Sammy." He whispered, closing his eyes and tilted down his head to the ground, waiting for the impact he was sure hurt bad but he didn't really mind. The last thing he remembered was the sharp pain on his side before his world rolled out black.

--

Come on, Dean. What the hell are you doing? Did you just wanna play game with me again?

John hit the red button as he reached the mailbox for like a hundred times. He didn't know what the problem with the kid was. Dean started to get on his nerves lately and now, again. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe the young man really needed the talk. But for sure, it was not an easy talk. As he hit the call button once more, he twisted the curtain a little with his fingers, just to take a peek out at the weather outside.

Or maybe he's stuck somewhere.

Somehow, the image of an injured Dean came out in his mind, battered up and vulnerable. A chill down his spine hit with an uneasy feeling tightening a knot in his chest. Shaking his head a few times, he ended up the call quickly. No, it couldn't be. He's okay. He's alright. It's just a stupid feeling.

Walking back to the motel's bed, he thought about Bobby. The old friend must know something. They hunted together. And maybe Dean just didn't want to talk to him again like before so he must be somewhere at Bobby's place. Yeah, it must be it.

Scrolling down his contacts number, John stopped at Bobby's name, hitting the button and started to wait silently until he heard a soft click at the end of the line. "Bobby?"

"John? It's two in the morning."

"I know. I'm sorry. Is Dean with you?"

"No, he left to Idaho about… eight hours ago. Didn't he call you?" Even Bobby couldn't hide the worry in his voice and it just made John feel a little worse.

Ignoring the question, he answered back with another question. "Hey, did he tell you if he wanted to go somewhere else first? I tried to call him like a thousand times but he's not answering his phone."

The silence he got from the old friend added nothing to his comfort. Besides, it sent another pit in his stomach. "Bobby, say something."

A long heave of sigh made appearance in his ears. John waited until Bobby's grunge-slow-concerned voice was able to utter from the other line. "John, I'm not sure about this but I think your son's in trouble."

TBC

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