Oh no! I'm breaking hearts again! Hopefully no one cries when they read this...maybe you'll cry because it's awful...?

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...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

This time will never come back around.

Dean.

I tossed in a bed to comfortable, the room was to quiet, harsh snores didn't fill it. I couldn't hear my brother flipping through a book. Dad wasn't perched on a bed, cleaning his gun with effortless ease. It was a painful reminder of how alone I was.

The night has a way of making thing worse. Makes the thoughts that claim hearts breathe.

I miss them.

...But I'm still not going back...

With a frustrated snarl, I threw the blankets of me and paced into the kitchen. I paused briefly to acknowledge the salt positioned at the door. I was running from the past but I stilled called to it for protection.

Call them, Dean. Apologise.

...Coward...

Rapid, self-degrading thoughts assaulted my tired mind. I turned away from the salt, leaning against the kitchen counter. Upon the table sat my phone, it seemed to taunt me as I watched it. This soulless piece of plastic was my only link to the family I'd left behind. The only way they could contact me. I could retrace my steps, mirror the tire tracks on the road and find my way to them. They didn't know where to start looking for me, I understood that. I'd been gone for nearly two weeks now, it was remarkable that I hadn't been found.

They are looking...right?

...What if they've forgotten me?...

Face it, you spat some nasty words at your baby brother. Why would they want you back?

I reached for the phone, cradling it between suddenly clammy hands. With batted breath, I switched it on, closing my eyes as the screen came alive. It barely had to wait a heartbeat before it sung at me. I peeked at the screen, astonished but pleased to see a single voicemail.

"I know you told me not to call, Dean, but I had too." Sam's voice caught in a sob, I'd never heard pain like this before in his voice. Guilt shook my core. "I miss you. It's not the same here. Dad's upset, he misses you too. I heard him talking to mum last night. He prayed for you just to call so he can talk to you. Bobby's guilty as hell for no reason. He's starting to regret letting you leave. I think I'm losing it, man. I need to know you're safe. There has to be some way we can salvage our relationship. We're brothers, Dean. We're supposed to stand together. You and me against the world." He dissolved into heart wrenching tears. I couldn't deny that I could feel a sob rising in my throat. Sam was in agony. "One call, Dean. Please."

I let the phone fall away from my ear, heard it clatter to the floor. Wordlessly, I stared at my hands, shocked to see them shake. There was tragic liquid on my cheeks, the tears of a wandering brother. My feet carried me to a kitchen chair, I sank boneless into it. Sam wept that Dad had prayed for a whisper from my lips. Did that mean he missed me? Or is it guilt? Suddenly I was hideously unsure, felt hopelessly naked. I hadn't realised I was biting my lip until there was a stab of pain from the healing tissue.

My brother was my world. I thrived on his affection. When I had lost that, I'd crashed and burned, unable to comprehend what I had done.

My dad was my rock. I relied on him to keep above the rising tide. When my support had failed, I drowned in the current of my nightmares.

They were my greatest strength and my crippling weakness.

...Did that mean they relied on me as well?

Was it possible that Sam's frequent calls meant my brother was falling without me to catch him?

Did my father's nightly prays to my dead mother mean he was drowning?

It was with a devastating clarity that I realised just how selfish I had been. In my heart I knew that they had hurt me and I had wounded them in return. This was just one big crucifying mess. But I knew I still needed space. I was still clinging tightly to the agony and betrayal I felt, unwilling to let it rest.

I glanced down at my phone.

Call them, Dean. One phone call.

Fear struck deep inside me as I watched my fingers dance over the numbers. I barely had time to breathe before it was answered.

"Hello?" The hope in that sixteen year old boy's voice nearly brought me to my knees.

"Hey, Sammy." I didn't recognise the timid voice that left my mouth.

"Dean! Y-You called!"

"No shirt Sherlock." I smirked. There was a hysteric flare in Sam's laugh. "How are you, kid?"

"Better. Oh, God! I miss you so much!"

"Easy, Sam. I know."

"Are you OK? You're not hurt are you?"

"Why would I be?" I fingered the scab on my arm, guiltily.

He doesn't know about Zack...right?

"I don't know. Where are you staying?"

"...Around."

"That's not an answer, Dean."

"It's the only one I'm willing to give. I'd better go."

"NO! NO PLEASE, TALK TO ME! TALK TO DAD!"

"I can't, Sam."

"Dean." I put tears back in my brother's voice.

"This isn't forever, Sam."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Make sure Dad knows that too."

"I will."

I severed the connection before Sam could utter another word. I knew the conversation was too brief, it hadn't filled the hole inside me. There was still pain in Sam's voice and I hadn't the nerve to speak to Dad.

I still felt alone.

You'll never be twenty again. Sam will never be sixteen again. You only live once. Am I wasting it?

It was with a heavy heart, that I found myself back in bed. I let the dreams my twisted my created lull me into an uneasy sleep.

I avoided Nick the next morning, darting out of the room whenever he entered. I didn't want to know his story, I didn't want him to merge his history with mine. He had no right to know my pain. Nick thought he could share it but he couldn't.

I put the strain in the air. Tessa crept around silently, barely daring to meet my eyes. Nick tried to ignore the situation but I saw the concerned glanced he threw at me. I was clearing a table when it finally got to someone.

"For the love of God!" Randy's loud voice battered my distracted mind, I let the tray slam to the floor. I glared at the man before I bent down to retrieve the object. "Just apologise!"

"I didn't do anything." Tessa defended

"I don't care. Whoever did it apologise. Dean's only been here a week and already he's hiding in corners."

"I am not hiding! I'm cleaning." I shot back, waving the cloth and towel at him. "Big difference."

"And he's sulking. Nick what did you do?"

"I do not sulk!" Though I was aware my words were awfully close to a whine.

"It wasn't me." Nick insisted, I resisted the urge to glare at him.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I spat.

I moved around the dinner while they argued. My attention span dangerously short had resulted in me losing interest in the conversation. I stopped by a table, staring down at the dirty rag I was dragging across the table top.

If you could see me now, Dad...would you look at me in disappointment? In your eyes...I'm a failure...because I ran from the hunt.

Oh, God!

Did I betray mum?

With a shove that was more difficult than it should have been, I hid the thought away, banishing it from my mind. It was then I was aware of someone hovering sheepishly by my side. I met Nick's nervous eyes and raised a curious eyebrow, noting the hostility that churned in my stomach.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It wasn't my intention to upset you." The sincerity in his voice nearly disarmed me but I clung desperately onto my fading anger.

I shrugged, dusting the cloth against a smear on the silver table. "Whatever."

"Please. I didn't mean it. The guys and I don't want you to leave." That brought me to a halt, my hand freezing.

Leaving...? I never said anything about leaving.

I turned to glance at Tessa and Randy. There was undeniable fear in Tessa's eyes, Randy's mouth was set in a grim line. Tessa twisted a rag nervously in her fingers, Randy walked his fingers through his hair. When I flicked my gaze back to Nick, there was agonising guilt on his face. His hand moved around my wrist, maybe he thought he could prevent me leaving.

"Forgive me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Yes, I forgive you. Stop with the eyes."

"Told you he was on my side!" Nick shot at Randy, Tessa squealed happily.

"Right...this chick-flick moment is going to make me puke."

I enjoyed the laughter that bubbled around me. I was satisfied when my laugh mixed with theirs.

Though I'm not with you...don't forget me, Sam.

I stiffened, there was eyes in the darkness, watching my movements. I flung a glance out of my window, studying the night. I could see nothing but my unease didn't diminish. My knife was clasped in steady fingers. The blood of a hunter ran through my veins. Nobody taunted me so easily while I growled in frustration.

This is a battle I win on my own.

Dean...don't ignore the warnings...don't get cocky.

...

Sorry. It's terrible.