Tipping the Scales

By Floralia

DISCLAIMER: Believe me, if I'd suddenly come into possession in the last few days, I would not have kept it quiet until now. Still unofficial.

Hi – whether or not it comes across, the intention was not to make out that Dean is in any way incompetent or weak, but that he perceives himself in this way so doesn't always realise he's doing everything he can in a logical and focused manner.

Chapter Eleven

Sam had been missing for 20 hours by the time Bobby pulled into the parking lot of the motel Dean had told him he was staying at. Since the brothers had been meandering almost non stop for two weeks to get here he had made good time, but he had taken the journey in one long direct straight line rather that stopping to hit every settlement en route.

He had called ahead to ensure that Dean was back here to meet him, had not taken no for an answer on the matter.

Dean had made it back before him, had obviously been waiting impatiently for his arrival, because at the first hint of an engine in the forecourt the motel door was open and Dean was striding over to meet him. Bobby only needed to take one look at him to know that he had done the right thing in insisting Dean wait for him here, and even more so in the fact he had taken the time to pick up something to eat as he had passed through town.

Dean already looked pale and worn, like he hadn't stood still, hadn't stopped once since he last time Bobby had spoken to him, and the older man doubted very much that he had. But his handshake was still firm, and after he had thrown aside the initial tremor in his voice, the extra effort needed to clear it before he could speak, he was more together than Bobby had expected. But perhaps that gave Dean too little credit. Yes he was no doubt a wreck at the thought of Sam so long gone, but he would never do anything that might hinder his recovery. So if that meant holding it together when his every nerve must be falling apart, then that was what he would do.

Their reunion was cut short by the sound of claws on glass and an exuberant barking.

"Oh tell me you didn't."

But Bobby's answer to that was to turn and open up the passenger door of his truck, and the squirming ball of muscle colliding with his leg told Dean clearly enough that he had.

"I left in a hurry." Bobby justified, "I didn't have anything else I could do with him at that short notice. I couldn't exactly leave it unsupervised." Bobby complained, but he was avoiding Dean's eye in a way that made him realise this was not the only reason the dog was here, and after everything he had gone through since his brother's disappearance he was surprised how much that effected him.

Bobby had brought Sam his dog back. But it wasn't only a show of faith that they would find him, and Dean was becoming increasingly in need of those, it was an admittance of something more. Sam had made no effort to hide his attachment to the animal, and while they may have teased him about it Dean and Bobby had both known it was a comfort Sam had needed. An extra level of security, something that he could cling to and feel safe, that would not pull away from the reassurance wanted.

Sam had been with Kane for a long time now. Dean would be naïve if he didn't accept that it was likely he would be in need of the same comfort and reassurance now. And as much as he was willing, he no longer believed he had any right to be the one to give them.

But maybe Sam would let him borrow his security blanket until Dean got his own back, not that he had been able to fall asleep with his curled within his reach for a while now, hug it to his chin with the ferocity he sometimes felt he needed to.

"Hey buddy." He knelt down to greet the dog properly, touched by its enthusiastic welcome; that it had considered him worthy of pausing to acknowledge at all, and his heart clenched painfully to think of what he knew was coming. He had agreed to keep the dog around because of its ability to make his brother smile at a time when he would see that all too rarely. It was actually painful to have it in front of him now when his brother was not, because he was trying, but Dean honestly couldn't think of a time when he had seen them apart. Whenever he had seen the dog it had been a sign that his brother was somewhere close by, and he couldn't help but feel inadvertently betrayed that this was not the case now. But he was not the Dean that had been betrayed in this scenario. He was not the one who had relinquished Sam to someone else's protection only to find that they had not been up to the task.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into its fur. Yes, he was aware he was apologising to a dog, but he felt like he owed it something, and it hurt that Sam was not here to tease him for it. That he could picture his brother's words and expression as clearly as though he had been. Then he noticed something on the gangly creature's side. "Look at you, what did you do?" he asked, fingering the thin strip of surgical tape. His mind flicked between the way the cut on the dog's side had been cleaned and treated, and Bobby's disparaging attitude towards it the day before, and couldn't quite make the two mesh. But the other man was watching him slightly defiantly and he couldn't ask, because he knew that Bobby had done it for Sam. Because he had known that Sam would have wanted him to if Dean had been able to hand the phone over to him like Bobby had asked.

He had patched up the dog's wound because neither of them had been able to tend to Sam's.

Both Dean's had done well, had spent almost 30 seconds without looking for Sam, and it was the smaller of the two that resume the search first, darting out of the human's reach and glancing around the car park, tail wagging so fast they could barely see it, ears pricked expectantly.

But the lot remained deserted, the open room door that Dean had emerged from remained clear.

The dog knew. Dean could see in the droop of its shoulders, in the way it lowered its head and its tail that the dog knew in that instant that Sam wasn't here. Saw it in the confused way it turned its head back to look at him, questioning, and in Dean's mind a little accusatory.

It knew Sam wasn't here, but like its human counterpart it went through the motions anyway.

Bobby closed the car up with a slam and the two followed the dog through the open door. It was just emerging from the bathroom as they entered, and was turning its attention to under the bed on the off chance Dean hadn't thought to look there.

He had.

It turned out Sam wasn't under the table either, and he wasn't hiding in the space between their weapon's bag and the wall. Watching him was making Dean dizzy. The simple faith it had that Sam would not have left them, that Dean would not have let him get far.

He sat down on the bed more heavily than he had planned and the noise of it had both of them moving towards him, Bobby watching with weary eyes, obviously unsure what to do with himself now he was here. But Dean didn't want his words of comfort. It was his mere presence that he needed. The fact that he was here, that he was an extra pair of eyes and hands and assorted weapons was of more practical use, did more to raise Dean's spirits than any words of encouragement he might come out with, and luckily Bobby knew this well enough not to bother to try. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing he could say that would not sound empty and hollow. That could adequately fill the void he could feel in the room.

The dog was both more tactile and more vocal. It jumped up so it was resting its two great front paws on Dean's knee, so that its questioning eyes and searching nose were more in line with Dean's own. And it whined.

It was so high pitched and mournful that Dean's breath caught, and it got Bobby moving again. Bobby tried to shush the dog, to get it to abandon its enquiry and leave Dean alone in case its wailing upset him; because he could see the affect it was having on Dean's calm. But Dean shook his head and pulled the dog closer. He wanted to let it cry. He felt closer to it in that.

Dean needed to be strong, but he was glad that one of them had the luxury to grieve for Sam. To acknowledge the hole he had left in the way it deserved. He didn't want Bobby to move it either, to take the feel of that warmth from his reach, because the inside of him was so damn cold.

Bobby had been geared up for a fight; had a speech prepared and everything, but when he held out the food Dean took it gratefully and ate without question. The fact he was willing to stop to eat at all told Bobby everything. That Dean expected them to be in for the long haul.

The thought of food made Dean sick; not because he wasn't hungry - he was starving – but because he knew Sam must be hungry by now too. Their last meal in that diner, the last time Dean had seen him, was a lifetime ago. It was irrational given the other discomforts that Sam no doubt faced, but Dean hated to think of his brother cold and hungry, because these were two things that, had he been here, Dean would have been able to easily fix.

He had wanted to hold off, as if in suffering himself he would be providing some sort of solidarity to Sam, but he was so tired now and his vision was starting to blur, and the strength to keep looking was more important than his notions of pride. So he would swallow back the nausea and he would eat. He would eat because sleeping would still have to wait. Eating might give him the strength to continue a while longer without stealing the time of genuine rest.

But he filled Bobby in on what he had done so far as he ate. He was not going to waste any more time than was necessary. He was not going to let his mind slow down, would not let it forget for even a second what he needed to do. He would not forget his concern. He had done that at the hospital. He had chosen not to call. Had shrugged away his anxiety and decided not to call. He had held his phone in his hand, stared at his brother's name on the screen, and then passed up on his last chance to hear that voice. Passed it up out of pride. Because he hadn't wanted Sam to realise how worried he really was. He hadn't wanted Sam to know how much Dean hated not being with him, not having him within his sight. And now telling him was all he wanted to do.

Because if he'd called and got no reply he would have looked for Sam sooner; maybe even have caught up with him before he made it back to their room. Would have known there was something wrong more clearly than he already had.

And maybe Sam had done the same thing. His phone had been in his hand when he'd been attacked, it wouldn't have been so damaged if it had not. Was it possible they had both done it? Both stood there with contact within their reach only to change their minds at the last moment. Dean swore right then that if he ever got the urge to call Sam again he would take it. No matter how stupid it might make him look he would take it. Because not being able to do so now was slowly killing him.

Dean still had a few places left on his list to check. He didn't hold out much hope that they would provide anything useful but he wouldn't ignore them on the off chance they might. And quite frankly he was running out of other practical action to take. Bobby offered to take half of the list for him, but there were two other things that Dean needed the other man to do. The first was to hire him a video so they would go through the countless hours of garage forecourt CCTV footage he had acquired. The second was a much more galling prospect, but one it was about time to admit was probably necessary. One Dean had been reluctant until now to spend the time to do properly. To come up with a plausible cry for aid.

So while Dean headed back out under the auspice of caffeine and adrenaline, his faithful sniffer dog now in tow, Bobby went to the police. He filed a missing person's report, not only for Sam but also for Kane. He could understand why Dean had been reluctant despite the extra scope and resources this would bring to the search, because it needed to be done carefully. It needed to be done without flashing the name Winchester over the police airwaves. To stress the fact it was information and aid they were seeking rather than action. That Kane should not be tipped off or approached in any way, because not only would that put the police officers' lives in danger, but also Sam's. Would encourage Kane to be even more vigilant about covering his tracks.

He also had to ensure it was not questioned that Dean had already been exploring some of the leads they would no doubt be considering, and had already confiscate half the states CCTV coverage. He got them to hand over the traffic camera tapes for every route out of town, and access to the equipment to view it; to ensure their co-operation and support without them poking into anything that might prove hard to later explain.

It took longer than Bobby had expected, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally managed to exit the station. He called Dean and got him to hand over some of the remaining locations on his list. He had been working his way outwards, and the ones left were on the edge of the hours drive radius that Dean had stipulated, and were well spaced. There weren't many more to hit, but they would prove to be incredibly time consuming dead ends.

From the lack of any report Bobby got the message that Dean was having no luck with his searches, so he headed back to the motel when he had finished his own. He had already dropped the equipment off at the motel's reception before going to the station, and Dean was already huddled on his bed with the dog working his way through the footage when he got back. Bobby pulled up a chair alongside the bed and they sat in silence for a while, both glued to the screen, but besides the odd indiscretion in gas station restrooms that Dean couldn't even find it within himself to comment on, there was nothing to see.

Bobby was clearly uncomfortable on the stiff wooden chair but he maintained his silence. Dean knew he was avoiding sitting on Sam's bed uninvited. It went without saying that Bobby would not be sleeping in it, if they stopped for sleep at all. It wasn't as if Sam would have minded – he would probably have been more exasperated with the fact they were treating the things he had left behind him like a shrine. Dean entertained the notion of not showering until Sam had been able to take the bath he had been denied, but only ended up upsetting himself imagining Sam's snort of exasperation at that idea. He was more grateful than he could express for Bobby's presence, but the mere fact that he was here only highlighted his brother's absence. He would not make the replacement any more clear by volunteering his brother's bed, by allowing him to finish the bar of chocolate Sam had left out on the table; the one that had been sustaining him through their mammoth research session of the night before the night before. No matter how good it looked just sitting there staring at them.

They tape they had been watching came to an end and ejected itself from the machine, but Dean made no move to get up and change it. That was the third tape he'd tried. Ten garages in the immediate area that had security footage, and a weeks worth of opportunity for Kane to have stopped at one of them. The pile was hardly decreasing. He had started with the one in town, positive that Kane had been the one to make sure there were no tires in stock before his act of vandalism. And surely enough there he was, striding over to the counter without a care in the world, and Dean had been glad that Bobby was yet to return, because it would have been hard to conceal the haze of rage that had settled over everything the second Dean had seen him. But he'd checked the day and time from every angle possible, and there was no sign of a car. No sign of anything that could help move this investigation forward. Nothing other than the fact Kane had been there, and had bought tires. Which Dean had already known.

That had been five hours ago and his eyes were beginning to blur, and he had a horrible feeling it was not because of the strain of watching the grainy black and white footage on fast forward for so long. He gripped tighter on the remote and swallowed convulsively; willing Bobby would leave the room, just for a moment, but also that he would never leave his sight at all.

There was still endless footage to go through but it didn't matter. They weren't going to find him. That didn't mean Dean wasn't going to look, wasn't going to spend his whole life trying to figure out exactly what had happened here. But he knew he wasn't going to find him. He knew that as surely as he knew that Sam was still alive. Knew that this would be his life now. Hold up in some dead end motel hunting down pointless leads feeling the trail grow ever colder, the distance between them ever wider, knowing that he was quite frankly too far away now to catch up.

Because Sam was still alive. He might have been gone for 31 hours now, but he was still alive. Because if Kane had killed him, when Kane killed him, he would want Dean to know about it. To know exactly what he had done. Otherwise what was the point? Kane would not deny himself the pleasure of looking Dean in the eyes and telling him, showing him, making him feel his failure.

So until he was given proof otherwise he would work on the basis that Sam was alive, that he was still out there somewhere to find.

"Dean?" He had been silent for a long time, and as much as he might need it, Bobby knew it was not yet time to allow Dean to grow introspective.

"I just…" he sighed, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't want to admit it but it was eating him inside. "I never asked. I… I just assumed that he… So I never asked."

Bobby kept silent. If Dean felt that he needed to talk then he would let him, but he would not push. Not yet. Dean had said barely anything to him since he'd arrived. Nothing that was not crucial to their investigation. Nothing personal at all. He was the focus of both their thoughts, but so far Dean had not brought himself to mention Sam.

"I thought Kane had intended a direct trade. That he was going to take from Sam what he took from me. But he didn't need to take Sam for that. Not unless… Maybe he's waiting for a buyer, I don't know…" the idea he was keeping Sam indefinitely while he knew the fate that awaited him was excruciating. "He would have left me Sam, just taken the device. He had no interest in me at all once he'd set the transfer in motion."

"He doesn't want Sam's emotions." Bobby spoke quietly.

"Did he..?" The idea Sam would have confided in Bobby what he still hadn't learnt… Or that Bobby would keep it from him if he had…

"No. He never said a word. But… I did some digging. Into the device you found. It's the kind of thing where you have to catch your victims unawares. Or push them. Because it relies heavily on the emotion you're feeling at the time of contact. That's hard to artificially replicate."

"For Sam it was pain." Dean admitted bitterly, "I don't think Kane's gonna have a great deal of trouble replicating that."

"But Sam will." Bobby insisted, but he could see that Dean was not convinced, was trying hard to pull himself away from the images his words had created. "The emotions have to be pure for the transfer to work. They have to be… automatic. It's hard to explain, but it's hard to catch someone emotionally unaware. If you know what's coming and are expecting the attack, you're gonna be very aware of what you're feeling, and that knowledge is going to underlay everything you feel. You're gonna be fighting it on some level, whether you're aware of it or not. And Sam's already been caught unawares once. He knows what it feels like now so has a better idea how to protect himself against it. It's a one time deal Dean; whatever Kane has in mind for Sam, I don't think it's that."

"But that means... No, Kane said he's take them back. That he gave Sam what he wanted, but he could take them back. He said…" He had told Dean his emotions were strong, would raise a high price, but he had known all along that he would probably never be able to take them. Because if he was protecting Sam the knowledge of that would cloud his every negative expression. Kane had claimed that he wasn't a murderer. Wasn't cruel for cruelties sake… it had never been anything other than an empty threat. Kane might have tracked him, taunted him and threatened him, but Kane had never actually wanted Dean. He had not use for him. But Sam had…

"Sam said I had something Kane wanted" Dean insisted, "He said not to… not to provoke him, because I still had something he wanted."

Bobby was watching him sorrowfully now, willing him to catch on.

"You did." He whispered.

"But…" Kane had led him to believe that Dean was the one he'd wanted. Even when he'd failed to show for the meeting a part of him had still thought that; that the fears that so plagued him were still crying out to Kane like a beacon. He had called Bobby. Put him on Kane's trail when he had known it was exactly the kind of thing Sam had been warning him about. Had Sam honestly thought that Dean was more likely to be careful with his actions if he though it was his own life in danger rather than Sam's? Had Sam even known, or like Dean had he too believed Kane's words?

Sam had known. He'd even told him it was not safe for them to discuss the matter, but he had tried to make him understand. He'd asked Dean to trust him. To not do anything stupid, because he had known that Kane would take from Dean the one thing he could not bare to lose.

So what had Kane wanted? What had Kane wanted from Sam that he could not get from Dean? That Sam would be so reluctant to talk about?

"Oh God…" That was obvious. Really really obvious. So obvious that Dean kicked himself that he had not stopped to consider it sooner. Because who in their right mind would let someone like Kane, who dealt in supernatural oddities, near someone like Sam who, lets face it, was one.

Kane obviously thought he would profit from Sam, would be able to use him to rebuild his operation. Why was it only now that Kane's words seemed so clear? Whatever he wanted from Sam he'd expected it to make him, and Dean suddenly couldn't have been more terrified about that. Be more afraid of what Kane had in mind, and just what buyer he had lined up.

But thinking about that led to a complete inability to function, and that was no doubt one of the things Kane had been counting on. That he could break Dean with his games; lose him in them, making his ability to pursue them less effective. To freeze Dean in his fear and let Kane and his brother slip away. And if that was the case, then it was possible that Kane really had feared that Dean would be able to track them. He must have known that Dean would never stop, so to try and force that freeze upon him, perhaps he was genuinely worried, there was a genuine possibility that he could hunt them down. There was a lead out there that he could follow, if only he found it in time.

And if that was the case, the Dean would work doubly hard to prove him right.

That got him moving again. He snuck gently from underneath the dog's paws, not wanting to wake it now that it was resting, not wanting to remind it, make it more aware of what they were doing. If it was anyone other than Sam, any other dog but this one, then Dean would have been the first in line to ridicule it, but he knew this pup knew exactly what was going on. At least the only details that mattered. It knew that Sam was gone, and it knew that they were trying to get him back. It had known that was why they had been searching those apartments, and Dean had been grateful for its presence because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if Sam had been near any of them the dog would know about it. Would have let that fact be known. He wouldn't be surprised if it would also recognise Kane's scent given the violent way it had reacted to the device back in the motel room, when Sam had first accidentally set it up and running.

"Killing Sam has not profit for Kane." Bobby offered before Dean could leave his spot on the bed. Before the opportunity for this conversation was officially closed. "The threat about his reputation… I've asked around, and Kane isn't known for leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Not intentionally. He dabbles in some pretty nasty stuff but he doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Unless he can get something pretty special out of it. That's how he avoids attention. Vendettas." It was only a half comfort. Kane wanted Sam for something, and if either of them had taken the time to force him to explain what that was, then maybe they would have a lead. Maybe they wouldn't have let Kane near him at all. But neither had wanted to push him, and Dean had had the arrogance to presume that he could protect Sam from whatever it was. That he had the slightest comprehension what was going on. So they had let it slide.

But Sam hadn't thought it an important detail. Important enough for him to worry about, but not to share. It was worth Kane coming after him for, and as much as he was loathed to admit it in light of his reaction to Kane's presence, Sam had never hidden that fact from him. The belief that Kane was alive and gunning for him.

Bobby was providing him with nothing but support and calm, but Dean knew he was worried. He was more worried than he would ever say. He knew the other man thought he should have packed Sam away and ran the second Kane had appeared, at the very least immediately forced him to spill all. And Dean could only wish that he had done. But Kane's threats had been so real, still echoed in his brain, and even now Dean couldn't bring himself to discount them. To believe that Kane would not have done exactly as he had claimed.

There would be time for this conversation, for the resulting recriminations, later. He didn't want to think that way but he knew there would be so much time. But now they still had potential lead they could follow, and that was a more important use of their time.

So he nodded to show that he understood what Bobby was trying to say, but he left his spot on the bed and made his way over to change the tape, to add another to the growing pile of wasted hours, and take one more away from the potential paths to Sam.

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Dean woke with a start, his fingers reaching automatically for the remote before he remembered that there was no point. There was nothing left to see. Nothing more these films could show him. They had got a second video to cut down on time. They had divided the tapes between them. And they had found Kane's car, on one of the last tapes they had checked. He had bought enough gas to make it clear he was planning a long journey. The number plate was clearly visible. They had given it to the police and spent the next few hours scanning traffic cameras for evidence of what direction it had been caught heading out of town. But they needn't have bothered. The police called back by the end of the day. Kane's car had been found abandoned at the roadside a hundred miles away from here. No other cars had been reported stolen in the area. The trail had already run dry. Two days of sitting in the dark scanning camera footage and they were no closer to tracking Kane than when they had started.

He looked at his watch. It was 9am. Bobby would be here in an hour ready to leave. He could pick up the Impala at ten, and they could leave this place behind them. There was nothing more for them here. He had searched every inch of it over the past three days. This town had nothing to offer.

Except that final tie to Sam. The last place that Dean could say with any certainty that his brother had been. Here, in this very room. The trail was growing colder by the second but while he was here at least he was on it. He knew for sure that Sam had walked these streets, because Dean had walked them with him. Had joked with him here. Had witnessed that final transition from dependent younger brother to the man Sam had become, here, within these boundaries. He had accepted Sam's return to the hunt, geared up ready to face the next stage of their lives.

But he had never expected this.

Sam was still in this room. Dean could feel him here, could practically smell him. His belongings were still lying untouched where he had left them and Dean knew he now faced the task of clearing them away. Of throwing away the bottle of water that Sam would never finish, of picking up the shirt on the floor in the corner that Dean could only assume that Sam had intended to pick up and clean. He faced the task of removing his brother's toothbrush from the bathroom, packing his books away, zipping that bag shut on items that would never again be seen. That Dean could not bear to look at again until he had Sam back. Items that Dean took for granted. That imbued the room with life, whether he had noticed them before or not.

They'd decided it was time to leave, but that didn't mean for a moment that they had any idea where to go. They had no idea where Kane or Sam were, only where they were not. They couldn't even be sure they had really been heading in the direction the car had been found in, or if that was merely an elaborate ruse. If Kane had turned back in the hope that Dean would continue. But if they didn't head in that direction then there were too many other alternatives.

Bobby had tried to give their decision a more logical base. A reason why Kane might have chosen it. He had obviously given up his old hideouts, so it was unlikely he would march home to be caught. This route took them in the opposite direction, and they would pass only through places that didn't already have a figure like Kane preying on them. Because if Kane set foot on another merchant's territory he would be killed on sight.

Bobby's contacts were again on the hunt for Kane, but with this new widened search area they were yet to report back with anything of use. Even when he had been operating out of one state they had never been anything other than a few steps behind him, despite all the information they had acquired, evidenced by the fact they had never been able to touch him before. That Sam had done in one night what these men had spent years trying to achieve.

But Dean was so far behind now that even a days old sighting would advance his position. Would at least have him heading in the right direction. Bobby received updates each morning and night but so far they had garnered nothing.

With the police out of the way Dean had thrown down the remainder of his pride and had eventually called Ellen. When Sam had been hurt he had not dreamt to call her – there had been absolutely nothing she could do. But now he had to admit that she had contacts of her own, whether he trusted them or not. But she was less inclined to see it that way. Had had no dealings with Kane or men of his type before, so was less incline to take the threat seriously. If Sam had vanished so effectively without a trace then there was no way a man was behind it. And while she was sorry that Sam was gone, if the demon was involved then setting a pack of unpredictable hunters on his trail was perhaps not the best idea, because there was no way of controlling what they decided to do with Sam once they found him. Ash was still looking for signs of the demon, but that failed to comfort Dean really, since if Ash was going to pick something up he would have preferred it to have been before Sam was taken rather than after.

He got up and showered; after three days he was more than ready to break his self imposed pact, and besides; he had absolutely no idea when the opportunity would be available again. When they would next stop. Because once they were on the move Dean would not stop without reason.

God the room was too quiet. He couldn't do this without the noise and bitching that usually accompanied such a large-scale repack. Couldn't escape Sam's voice telling him not to bend his book, to perhaps try folding something once in a while, complaining that maybe if he hadn't spread their weapons and protective supplies quite as extensively throughout the room it would not now be taking him quite so long to retrieve them.

In the end he had to turn on the TV to banish the silence. He'd never before realised how much he and his brother talked. Even when there was nothing to say. Bobby was a lot more taciturn by nature than Sam and they had fallen into a routine of silence, of avoiding the things that neither wanted to have to say. Dean had found himself talking to the dog, which he was yet to let out of his sight since it had got here – he was not making that mistake again – just to remind himself what his own voice sounded like. To try and banish the croak of under-use.

The TV was tuned to some morning talk show, but Dean could take no solace in the fact that at least he wasn't pregnant by his brother's lovechild, because his eyes were drawn to the time and date in the corner of the screen.

"Shit."

How had he forgotten? He'd had a lot on his mind over the last few days it was true, but still… he'd been thinking and plotting about it for weeks before this had all gone down.

He was trying to make up his mind whether it was a good thing he had been reminded or he was wishing he had never known. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do with the knowledge that today was Sam's birthday. How was that supposed to feel? Was nausea an appropriate reaction?

This was not the first time Dean had not been able to celebrate his brother's birthday with him, and the pain of that had always managed to take him by surprise, but in the past he had always at least known where Sam was. Known that he wasn't alone.

Was Sam thinking about it too? Did Sam even know? Or had he too lost track of the days? Perhaps there was only darkness and no time at all in whatever hell he was currently trapped in. He knew that Sam had not wanted to do anything for it; had the crazy notion that his birth was not exactly something for the world to celebrate, which was perhaps why Dean had been so keen to prove that, as far as he was concerned at least, it was. Dean had come far to close to losing him over the past year to be anything other than grateful. They had spent Christmas in the ICU. His own birthday had been less than fun. So while Sam had viewed its approach with dread Dean had looked ahead to this day as some kind of new beginning. They were moving on with their lives and Dean couldn't have been more relieved about that fact, and had been looking forward to an opportunity to prove to Sam that was the case. And here he was. His new beginning. Clearing their room of all traces of the brother he had wanted to prove he desperately needed in his life. Enclosing them in a bag he knew he could not bring himself to reopen alone.

Twenty-four years ago today this stage of his life had began. His father had picked him up and pointed at the small pink figure through the glass, told Dean that he was a brother now. That he would be a good brother. That together they would take such good care of him and little Sammy would always be safe. Well this empty room was a testament to how royally he had fucked that one up.

He had only just got Sam back. Why was it that every time it started to feel like things could be alright between them, something always happened to majorly screw that up? And every time they were beginning to overcome one obstacle another would just present itself.

And he had just got Sam back. Dean had been given a glimpse of what life would be like without him, and he had never ever wanted to go back there. But now that was all there was. Until Kane slipped up. Until he got too cocky and did something to make his whereabouts known, then this life was all Dean had. And ever second he waited was a second more to his failure. Was a second more that Kane got to spend with Sam, got to hear, see, touch the thing that he was denied. The only thing he had ever wanted, ever asked for for himself.

And that was the thought that got him moving. The thought of Kane's long cold fingers on Sam's skin. Kane touching his brother at all. He had tried so hard not to think about it. To focus his mind on the light that was Sam still alive and to work with that, not to allow himself to dwell on what he must be experiencing. What exactly Kane would be doing with him now that he had him. But now that was all he could think about. Sam. Sammy. His little brother, the only light, the only innocence in his life and Kane had corrupted that now by his mere presence. By breathing the same air. And Kane had promised he would make Sam cry. Would make Sam scream. Would force Sam to endure horrors the likes of which Dean could not even contemplate. Would surely not remain sane if he did. So why could he not get the images out of his head. The sound of Sam's screams and accusations. The startling colour of his blood staining the sidewalk, Dean's hands. Kane's malice anywhere near him. The extent of Kane's cruelty, the mind games he liked to play, the implements of torture he created everyday and the 89 hours he had now had to use them. To test out which ones might be the most effective. Would make Sam scream to just the right effect. Might give Kane what he wanted to hear.

He made it to the toilet before he started throwing up, which was a good thing because he really didn't want to spend any more time cleaning this room. His throat burned and his stomach cramped and he couldn't sob now, couldn't break down or he would choke. But it would be a fitting end to him. It would be no less than he deserved. And if he gave in, failing Sam in that way on top of everything else, allowed the horror and the fear to own him, to prevent him from doing his job, then he wasn't worthy to have Sam back.

But there was no-one else. There would be no-one looking if he gave up now.

He managed to get control over his retching. To get his mind back under control. He wasn't sure if the shaking would ever stop but for the time being he could still think for himself. Could still act.

The dog had woken up and wandered in to see what he was doing, huddled on the floor in front of the toilet, arms hugging his knees. But his body was cold and empty while the dog was still so warm. So trusting. So unwavering in its belief that they would be able to get Sam back for him.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, pulling the animal closer. He'd repeated that phrase to it a thousand times to it over the last few days, and while each time he meant it, each time he was apologising for a slightly different thing. This time it was the fact he had broken down. Had come so close to losing control. To reaching the point where he would have been of no use to any of them.

He finished retrieving their belongings from the bathroom while he was in there and carried on with his packing, both eager to get it done and keen to draw it out, delay the moment when he left this room. Sam's place of sanctuary that had so cruelly betrayed him. He was keen to get his car back, to feel its echoing rumble, to try to use its calm, but for the days and nights to come his comfort would be stolen by the empty seat beside him. All thoughts of peace would be sucked straight into the vacuum of that void.

His jeans were annoying him. The belt had gotten itself caught on the zipper of his bag and he couldn't for the life of him get them to go either in or out of the bag. Couldn't get them to break free. And if he couldn't even pack clothes effectively by himself, who in their right minds had ever thought to trust him with a life. To place that cargo in his hands and see that it was so obviously going to end this way. And he needed to get moving and find Sam and this stupid bag was just too stupid stubborn and…

Sometimes violence really was the answer. But while the belt was no-longer attached to the bag, half of its contents had now come lose and were scattered across the floor.

Taking a deep breath he knelt down to put them back in, trying to ignore his own little hissy fit. Ignore the clenching in his heart that he had made the dog cower. Momentarily flee from him.

He was so close to making Bobby's 10am rendezvous time. Would have made it with ease had he not seen that shirt. Had the flash of red not caught his eye as he was repacking. Had the colour not already been staining his mind.

He unfolded the t-shirt he had been holding carefully, and the sight of it was like a punch. The memory of it was painful. Beautiful and tragic and painful at the same time. So much like Sam.

He had tucked this away at the bottom of his bag and never once given it a second thought. But now he didn't think there was a way he could remove it from his hands. Could breathe if it was taken out of his sight. So much like Sam.

His hand print, his blood, gripping Dean's chest. The urgency and the love, the fear and the need just as loud now as they had ever been. That quiet little voice, that constant presence in the back of Dean's mind making itself known. Saying 'I'm here' and 'let me help you' and 'you don't have to go through the darkness alone'.

And it was that image, the purity of that symbol, that banished away all fear and distortion that Kane had planted in his memory. That allowed him to focus once more, to pull back the picture of his Sam as he had always been. Dean's comfort. His innocence. His light.

A reminder of Sam's own determination. His ability to bounce back. He had not yet sunk under the pressure of what life dealt him, however tempting that prospect had been. He had lent on Dean, but he had never made his brother carry his full weight. Even when Dean had wanted to, had thought he would have to, Sam had never ceased to surprise him. To vow that he could be strong.

Dean forgot it all too often. His own need and Sam's nature sometimes allowed the fact to be buried, but Sam had proved time and time again that he could save himself. That even when he couldn't, he wouldn't stop trying. And Dean was holding the proof of that. That sometimes Sam could rally, could throw his own pain and weakness behind him and save them both. He had been that way his whole life, it would not change now.

Maybe all Dean needed was to hold on to the strength to meet him half way.

And that was what got the floodgates opening. The clear indication of just what he had lost. Just how big that void really was, and how nothing else in the world would ever be the right shape to fill it. And Dean had lost him.

He had not cried like this since the first night away from the hospital. Since Sam's seizure. He gave in to the tears and it was so much more painful than the vomiting. But he couldn't admit how much he had wanted to do this. How much he had wanted to let this go. To ease some of the building pressure. To acknowledge some of the gaping wound of pain inside himself. Just how big the hole was. To not belittle what Sam meant to him by keeping it in. By pretending he could be stoic in the face of this.

He wanted to give Sam these tears, because he didn't know now what else to give him.

TBC