Thanks to Faezier, BonanzaRocks, whatnosheep, and guest for the reviews! I really appreciate any feedback you can offer!
This chapter focuses entirely on Dean. I have to admit that I often struggle to write Dean. I identify extremely closely with Sam which sometimes hinders my understanding of Dean's emotions and motivations. I consulted with my boyfriend who's about 80% Dean, so I hope between the two of us, we gave him the credit he deserves! Please review and let me know how I/we did!
I'll probably be moving my updating schedule to every 2-3 weeks, seeing as I've been on a two week schedule for the last few chapters.
Dean stared into the now-cold coffee swirling in his mug. It had been a week since he'd spoken with his little brother. He rested for a few days in Cleveland after being taken down by freaking Paris Hilton then drove to Bobby's once his funds had run low. His vision hadn't recovered 100% from the fierce beating he'd received but he was confident there wasn't any permanent damage. His depth perception was still severely affected though; the bruises on his thighs and shins from running into things was a testament to that.
Bobby was watching him wear a rut into the floor with his pacing. Dean's anxiety was infectious. It was radiating off the young man in thick, oily waves that clung to everything. Both hunters knew Sam's behavior was unusual but neither had been willing to openly admit the potential implications of the prolonged radio silence. There were only a few options and none of them were particularly appealing: Sam was purposefully avoiding Dean's and Bobby's calls because he was unwilling to forgive Dean or both of the hunters, or was too depressed to do so; Sam was consciously or accidentally avoiding them because he was back on demon blood or caught in withdrawal from a relapse; he was unable to answer the phone because he was hurt, captured (possibly by Lucifer), or, both hunters thought with chilling unease, dead. If Sam was just avoiding them, he'd come around eventually. If he had relapsed, Dean would be beyond pissed, but he'd do whatever necessary to get Sam clean again. If Sam was hurt or captured, they'd find him and patch him up. They knew Lucifer couldn't have him yet because they would know. But if he was dead… Well, experience had taught them that it was best to let the dead lie. Bobby let out a sigh as he pondered whether Dean would follow their own advice when it came to Sam.
"Dean," Bobby began sympathetically.
Dean spun on his heel and his expression was slightly manic. "Something's wrong, Bobby, I just know there is. Sam wouldn't hold out on me for this long. I know he's changed some but I don't think he'd do this if he had his head on straight."
Bobby nodded. "I agree with ya. But we also don't know if he does have his head on straight.
He's a good kid, and I really hope he's still sober, but you gotta factor that in. On top of that, Sam, he's…" Bobby paused and the tension on the older hunter's face halted Dean's reply. Bobby looked up and held Dean's gaze though his eyes were timid. "He's so much weaker without you, Dean. When you went to Hell… The way he… I… I thought I'd lost him too."
Dean's frenzy chilled as Bobby spoke. "What do you mean?"
"We stayed in Pontiac for a few days trying to figure out what to do. By the time we buried you, he hadn't showered for days, not sure when he'd eaten last… He reeked of booze. Don't even know where he got it. Damn miracle he didn't wreck your precious car. He wanted me to help him bring you back, at any cost. Had to hide some of my stuff in the car… Found him drunk one night trying to pry my damn trunk safe open with a crowbar. His fingers were bleeding and he was a mess. Got him cleaned up and put him to bed. Not sure how much he remembers… But he was gone the next day. You know the rest."
Dean turned away from Bobby and towards the window, his hand running absently through his hair. Sam. His brother had refused to divulge many details of those four months without Dean. Not that he himself had been particularly forthcoming, but there wasn't much that really needed to be shared. Sam, on the other hand, had undergone alarming changes, most of which he'd hidden from Dean. He supposed he always knew a lot of those changes and the decisions that lead to them were made under a heavy pall of grief, but to have it confirmed so explicitly was a little overwhelming to Dean. He was the one who went into drunken rages, not Sam.
"Bobby, where did you say he was?"
"Garber, Oklahoma."
He grabbed his leather jacket. "Then I'll start there."
"Dean—"
"Something's just not right. Look, if he's there and he's fine, at least we know and I have a chance to talk to him. If he's not there, I can pick up the trail."
Bobby motioned to indicate his wheel chair. "Not like I can really stop you."
Dean gave the older hunter an apologetic look. "I know. But I need to do this. I'll keep you updated."
"You might as well stock up on ammo and gear. Don't know what you could be getting into. Not like I'm gonna be using it any time soon."
Dean nodded and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Bobby. I'll bring 'im home."
"I know you will. Now get going. You're burning daylight."
Dean took an hour to pack Baby with whatever he thought he might need. There was every possibility that Sam was completely fine and was merely blowing off Dean's calls, perhaps as a punishment for Dean's harsh words. Yes, that could totally explain the lack of communication. But then why was Dean so convinced something was wrong? With any luck, he'd have his answer in under eight hours.
Dean pulled in to the only bar in town and cut the engine. Due to some unusually bad storms in southern Kansas, the drive had taken him nearly nine hours. His brief perusal of the 824 person town both perplexed and made sense to Dean. Garber was barely a speck on the map and as such was a great place to hide out. On the other, what the hell was Sam planning on doing out here? There was literally nothing in this town. Sam was far too restless to hang around here for long. Maybe he did blow town in search of greener pastures. Dean knew even he would. Fuck, only one bar in town? Screw that. At the rate he got kicked out of bars, he wouldn't last long in Garber.
More out of habit than anything else, Dean dialed Sam's phone again and was unsurprised to hear Sam's voicemail. Dean threw the phone down on the bench seat, irritated. It was unlike Sam to ignore so many calls. Sure, they hadn't parted on the best of terms, but it had been a week since they'd last spoken. He understood now—they were better as a team. They kept each other fighting. Well, he'd just have to find Sam so he could tell him that in person.
He left Baby with a loving caress across her hood and entered the bar. A few patrons were scattered inside and gave Dean the well-known look of locals appraising a stranger. Having been on the receiving end of countless unwelcoming assessments, Dean ignored their smirks and stares and approached the bar. An older man looked up.
"Evening," Dean greeted, putting on his most winning smile. He needed information and was willing to kiss some ass to get it. "I'll have a glass of your best bourbon."
The bartender nodded. "Got Weller 12 year. That work?"
Dean smiled and took a seat on a stool. "Sure."
The bartender leaned down and plucked a squat bottle from a glass cabinet. He placed a tumbler in front of Dean and poured out a generous serving. Dean eagerly picked up the cool glass and brought it to his lips and drank, relishing the slight vanilla notes and rich caramel. After notes of toffee lingered on his tongue.
"Holy shit, it tastes like candy. That is awesome!" Dean exclaimed, taking another sip and holding it in his mouth to enjoy the taste.
"It better be, for 22 dollars a pour."
Dean fought his body's urge to spray the precious liquid over the man opposite him. Instead, he managed to snort some of the Weller into his nose, where it made its burning presence vigorously known.
The older man chuckled. "Little rich for your taste?"
Dean collected himself and focused on ignoring the painful sensation percolating through his sinuses. "A bit, but damn, that's worth it." He finished it and set the glass down. "I'll have another pour."
The bartender raised his eyebrows but complied. "What's the occasion?"
"Family reunion," Dean answered vaguely.
The man looked around the nearly empty bar. "Where's everyone else, then?"
"Well, I was hoping you could help me with that." Dean reached into his pocket as he was met with a confused look. He found a somewhat recent picture of Sam and himself that Bobby had taken. He slid it over to the bartender. "Last I heard, my brother was working here. Do you recognize this long-haired hippie?"
The man took the photo into his hand and held it up to his face to see in the dim light. "Oh, yeah, that's Keith. He started a few weeks ago. He hasn't shown up for work in a week, though."
Dean felt a cold knot of worry pierce through the bourbon-induced warmth in his stomach. Sam wouldn't just leave a job without telling his employer. He was too responsible for that. "I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a week, hence why I'm here. Would anyone know where he might have gone?"
"Maybe Lindsey, but she stopped coming to work same time he did. Two of my best employees, too." He shrugged. "Maybe they ran off together. She seemed rather sweet on him."
Dean almost snorted at the thought of Sam running off with a girl. He would never do tha — His train of thought derailed abruptly as he considered the circumstances surrounding Lucifer's release from Hell. Sam had run off with Ruby and by doing so, he had started the Apocalypse. Dean did the right thing and offered forgiveness but Sam had still forsaken him. Dean disengaged himself from the memories, knowing they would only lead to anger.
"Do you have his address?"
The man's nostrils flared as he considered Dean's request. "Normally, I wouldn't give out that kind of information, but he seems like a good kid and I want to know that he's okay. Lemme go check my records."
Dean tried to concentrate on the enchanting aroma of the bourbon and not the way his mind was inventing a thousand scenarios to explain Sam's sudden disappearance. He fought the rising tide of anxiety by quickly sipping his glass until the man returned with a post-it note.
"Here ya go. Hope you find him."
"Thanks," Dean murmured. He drained the tumbler and put a $50 bill on the counter. He picked up the post-it note and swiveled off the barstool.
A few minutes of driving brought him to where Sam was staying. Part of him prayed Sam was just passed out in bed with a nasty flu. He knew that wouldn't be the case, their luck never worked that way, but a man could hope. He knocked on the door but received no answer. A few seconds with his lock pick granted him access. The room was immaculate, as if no was living there. Dean closed the door and poked around the room. All the drawers were empty and there was nothing in the trash cans. Nothing to give him a clue as to where Sam had gone or what had happened to him.
He pulled out his phone to call Bobby for guidance when another thought struck him. He could try to track Sam's phone. He dialed their cell phone provider and invented a story to get the information he needed.
"Hi there, my little brother ran off because he was mad we wouldn't get him the puppy he wanted. He has special needs and really shouldn't be left alone too long. I'm pretty sure he had his cell phone with him. Do you think you could tell me where he was last?"
"Oh, poor thing," the operator answered. After a few minutes, she found Sam's information. "My records here say his phone last pinged a cell phone tower on the southeast side of Lamont."
"I'm in Garber, OK, how far away is that?"
"About 18 miles."
"Can you tell me when that was?"
"Looks like it was exactly a week ago."
Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Alright, thank you so much for your help."
"No problem. Hope you find your brother."
Dean hung up the phone and practically ran to the Impala. He screeched out of the parking lot and up the highway to Lamont. Figuring Sam might need gas wherever he was going, he pulled into the first gas station he saw, a G & S General Store. He hurried in and approached the young woman sitting by the cashier.
"Hi, there. Were you working this shift a week ago?"
The woman gave him a suspicious look and retreated from him slightly.
Dean held his hands up to signal he was not a threat. "Sorry, I don't mean to come across as a creeper. It's just I'm looking for my brother and I was told he came through here a week ago. Maybe you remember him?" He gave an innocent smile and reached for his wallet. He pulled out the same picture as earlier and showed it to the cashier.
"Oh yeah, I remember him. He seemed really out of it."
"What do you mean?" Dammit, is Sam drinking the demon blood again? Dean thought with consternation.
"That late at night, you get a lot of weirdos coming in… But he wasn't like that. He just seemed real upset. He looked like he was gonna get coffee then kind of fell over. Thought maybe he was a diabetic like my gran and he was in shock or something. I called out to him and he looked at me all scared-like and got up and ran out. Felt bad for him."
"Did you see which way he went?"
"Yeah, he went left back into town. Was driving an old beater, if that helps any."
Dean smiled at her. "It does. Thanks so much."
"Good luck," she murmured as he left the store.
Dean headed east on Route 60, the only highway out of east Lamont, following the trail indicated by the cell phone company. If Sam's last known location was from out here somewhere, he'd either turned off his phone along the highway, thrown his phone out the window, lost battery and never charged it, or something had happened such that his phone was destroyed. None of those options sounded great to Dean, but it could get him a step closer to Sam.
He turned his high beams on and hunted for anything that could be a clue. Signs of a crash, an abandoned building, anything. Mile after mile of nothingness passed him by. Alone on the highway, his thoughts began to wander to Sam. What the hell was up with his brother? Best case scenario, Sam was being a dick. Worst case scenario, Sam was in trouble or dead. He shook his head. He'd know somehow if Sam was dead. He'd just know.
He was so distracted by his thoughts he almost missed the shiny glint from amongst a grove of trees. He slowed down and turned around, pulling off to the side of the road. He went to the trunk and grabbed a flashlight. He took his 1911 out of his belt and held it up as he approached the unknown object. As he got closer, he realized it was a piece of junk car that had been covered with branches to hide it. The storm that had slowed him down in Kansas must have blown some of the sticks away to reveal the shiny back bumper which had caught his eye. He tucked his gun back in his jeans and pulled more branches out of the way. He peered into the window and saw what looked like Sam's phone lying on the driver's seat. Dean felt for the door handle and was dismayed to find the door unlocked. Pulling it open, he picked up the phone and examined it. The screen was smashed and the rest of the phone wasn't in much better condition. It wouldn't even power on. Dean slid into the seat and looked around. The seat was far back enough that only his gargantuan brother could be driving it. Tilting his head, he saw the key was still in the ignition. That's weird… Clambering over the seats, he searched underneath but found no incriminating evidence. He extruded himself and was about to shut the door when the beam of light caught a strand of hair peeking out from the headrest. He sealed his fingers around it and pulled. The color and length told him it was either a woman or his missing brother. The warmth of the alcohol in his system did nothing to ease the chilled fear coiling around his nerves.
Dean cradled the busted phone in his hands as he waited for the cell phone store to open at 9 am. His next best move was to pull the last messages from Sam's phone to see if that provided any clues. His 45 minute drive to Enid had left him with several hours to kill before he could take a peek into Sam's private life. He spent the time trying to sleep in the car but Baby's usually good-enough-for-snoozing seats were oddly uncomfortable. As soon as the sun rose, he considered getting some food but his stomach rejected the idea, signaling its discontent with a few flips. Instead he passed the time by listening to the radio and absently flicking through a Busty Asian Beauties magazine.
When an employee finally approached, Dean watched him like prey, his tensed muscles buzzing with energy. The moment the store lights turned on, Dean was out of the car and into the store. The attendant was surprised but regained his composure quickly.
"Hello, sir, how can I help you today?"
"Yeah, I accidentally stepped on my phone last night. Hoping I can get all the contacts, texts, and messages transferred over to a new phone."
The man nodded. "As long as the chip is intact, that shouldn't be a problem. Can I see it?"
Dean dug it out of his pocket and reluctantly handed it over, hesitant to part with his only connection to Sam.
"Wow, you really did a number on it."
Dean applied a sheepish smile. "Yeah, was a crazy night last night. Lots of booze," he lied.
"Gotcha," the man answered and took the phone into the back.
Dean waited a few minutes in anxious silence until the man came back around looking pleased with himself. "I was able to recover everything. Do you want the same phone?" Dean nodded. "Okay, it will take a bit for the battery to charge enough so that I can transfer your information."
Dean suppressed a sigh. More waiting. "That's fine."
After twenty minutes, the man returned and handed Dean the new phone and all the packaging. "It doesn't have a ton of battery, but enough to hold you over I think."
Dean handed over the couple hundred bucks to pay for the new phone and silently thanked Bobby for his generosity. He went back to Baby and peered at the little device, hoping its secrets would lead him to Sam.
He opened Sam's text messages and found Lindsey's name at the top of the list. He smiled to himself a bit. At least Sam had managed to get a girl's number! But the texts held nothing useful or eyebrow-raising. Mostly just arranging shift changes or Sam asking about work-related things. Lindsey seemed pretty insistent on taking Sam out to dinner, an offer Sam refused with various excuses. There was nothing to suggest the two were madly in love and had run away. Dean was almost a little disappointed. That would have been a nice change of pace!
He dialed the number and prayed the woman would pick up and share some critical piece of information that would reunite him with Sam. To his frustration, it went directly to voicemail. "Hi, you've reached Lindsey. I can't make it to the phone right now, but please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
"Hey Lindsey, this is Dean Winchester, S—" he stopped himself, recalling Sam using the alias 'Keith.' "—Keith's brother. I haven't heard from him in a while and was hoping you might know where he is. Give me a call back whenever you can. Thanks."
The rest of his texts were uninteresting as they were ones Dean remembered from his time with Sam. He scrolled through and looked for a thread with Ruby but Sam must have deleted it. Checking his phone log also revealed nothing enlightening. The last two calls were to Bobby and himself a week ago. Dean didn't recognize the previous numbers but they had Oklahoma area codes and were probably related to Sam getting a job and housing. Not a single thing to explain why Sam had apparently disappeared from the sleepy little town, ditching his car in the woods as he did so.
Sighing, Dean dialed the voicemail number. "No new messages. One saved message. Press 1 to listen to this message. Press—" Dean pressed 1 and put the phone back to his ear, curious.
"One saved message from 8:17 pm May 14, 2009." It took Dean a moment to recognize the date: the day before Sam killed Lilith and accidentally broke Lucifer out of his cage. When Dean had called him from the green room. Why would Sam save that message? Maybe to remind himself that Dean had forgiven him?
Drawn from his thoughts by the gruff voice assailing his ear, he was in no way prepared for the harsh venom his own voice was spewing. "Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam – a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back." Dean nearly dropped the phone in shock, loathe to touch the angry little device. "End of message. Press 2 to replay this message. Press 7 to delete this message. Press 9 to save this message."
Dean had a visceral urge to mash the 7 button but refrained. What the fuck was that?! That wasn't the message he had left! Not even close! What could have changed it?! He thought for a moment before that smug voice bubbled up: "Sam has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it." Dean had never found out what that meant but he'd bet anything that this was what Zachariah did, how he had 'nudged' Sam.
How could Sam even believe that message had come from Dean?! That message straight up told Sam that Dean would kill him whenever they next met. Dean could never do that. Surely Sam knew that? Just as he knew everything else in the message was false too?
The phone repeated its command options and Dean pressed 2 to hear it again. "Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak." Right from the start, Zachariah-Dean was getting under Sam's skin with one of his most hated words. Sam couldn't stand to be called 'freak.' There were enough bullies and black eyes associated with that word to fill a stadium. Dean had done his best to protect his little brother both back in school and more recently.
It burned Dean to even think about it, but Gordon's convictions about Sam had been right. Gordon had predicted it, that 'one day he's going to be a monster.' Maybe he should have taken the hunter more seriously, though really, what could Dean have done to prevent the situation? The only thing he really had control over was not making the demon deal that resurrected Sam. That was all on Dean, not Sam. He hadn't asked to be brought back. Anything Sam had done since then was to either try to fight his destiny or avenge Dean, however perverted Sam's methods had been.
"Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you." Gee, following up 'freak' with any mention of Dad was a sure way to get Sam's blood to boil, Dean thought bitterly.
"Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you." There it was, as good a death threat as any. When Dean called for your head, there was no escaping that. No wonder Sam had seemed so jumpy and anxious around Dean lately… He was constantly waiting for Dean to kill him!
"You're a monster, Sam – a vampire. You're not you anymore." Dean shied away from the words, wishing he could repudiate them with every ounce of love in his heart. But under the duress of extreme emotions and pressure, he had crossed the line and said what was sure to alienate the two brothers. "Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are… It means… It means you're a monster." Not that Sam hadn't made his own unfair contributions to that spectacular fight, but Dean had thrown the insult out in an attempt to halt Sam, to make him see how far he'd fallen. Dean now realized what he had missed that night: Sam had already accepted his fate as a 'monster', believing he might be redeemed if he averted the Apocalypse. In a last ditch effort to stop Sam from leaving, Dean had repeated his father's infamous words from the night Sam left for Stanford: "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back." It was the nail in the coffin for Sam's belief in his brother. He supposed he couldn't fault Sam for accepting that message as truth after what Dean had actually said, but it still pained him regardless.
"And there's no going back." The finality in Zachariah-Dean's tone made him wince. Sam had been played, not just by Ruby, but by Zachariah too. Was it any surprise that he had been manipulated so easily with powers such as these working against him? The desire to absolve Sam of all responsibility was quickly marred by the memory of Sam's face covered in blood. His emotions splintered and he felt himself impaled on the anguish swirling within him.
The robotic feminine voice drew his attention and he pressed 9 to save the message. Not because he wanted the vile thing around, but because he wanted to make sure he set the record straight with Sam, once he found him.
That thought refocused Dean's attention. Something was definitely wrong but Dean wasn't sure what to do next. He opened his phone and dialed the only person besides Sam that he trusted with his life. The call was answered up after one ring.
"Bobby, we have a problem. I think Sam's missing."
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