The Illusionist

Chapter 20 : Nobody But You

They had left at dawn, Sam reassuring Jessica that he'd be home in time for his interview, and for her not to worry and that everything would be alright. But Sam was smarter than that, and knew better. He was a Winchester, and nothing was ever alright in their family.

Dean had shoved some papers in his lap, the important parts that he wanted Sam to read had been highlighted, but Sam being Sam read through it all instead. He was going to be a lawyer after all, and being thorough was everything.

He stopped half way through though, his brow creasing as he realized that these newspaper clipping printouts had nothing to do with their father at all; at least none that he could find. They all alluded to one thing, that a ghoul was on the loose and Dean was dragging him into a hunt.

Sam took a deep breath, and set the stack of papers down. He looked over at his brother who picked up on his staring in no time.

Sam shook his head. "Pull over," he said and signed, his right hand flat in front of him as he moved his left hand over it.

Dean stared at him for a moment, but complied. "What? Find something?" he inquired, peering down at the papers, then back up at his little brother, who looked none too pleased.

"This is a hunt, Dean," Sam stated simply, brow creased in annoyance.

"And? Your point?" Dean asked, bringing his right index finger down and pointing at his left one without touching it.

"You said we were looking for Dad. What does this place have to do with him?" Sam picked up the top paper and pointed to the town the occurrences were happening in. "What would Dad be doing in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico? Pampering himself at one of the spas?"

"I thought college was supposed to make you smarter, not more of a dumbass," Dean signed, smirking when an indignant look spread across his little brother's face.

"I'm just trying to understand, Dean. What's your reasoning for him being there?" the youngest Winchester asked, trying not to lose his cool.

"Do you even pay attention?" Dean asked frustratedly, putting his hands up to the side of his face, palms facing inward, then moving them forward a bit. "Never mind, you were only six so you probably wouldn't remember." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Okay, Dad had a hunt down there awhile ago. He left us back in Albuquerque, and he was gone for three days instead of just three hours like he'd promised. Anyway, he went down there after a ghoul, but it got away before he could kill it. I figured he'd probably come back for it. You know, unfinished business."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place, jerk?" he playfully asked, a hint of a grin pulling up the corners of his lips as he finger-spelled the last word.

"Bitch," Dean signed, forming his hand into the finger-spelling for the letter B and tapping his chin quickly. A small smile slowly spread across his face as he turned the engine back on. He glanced at Sam, then pulled back onto the road.

Sam let the ghost of a grin linger on his lips for a little while longer until his gaze fell back on his older brother, the feeling that something was wrong returning almost instantly. He had yet to bring up the subject of Dean's weight loss yet, and he could tell his older brother was trying his damnedest to hide the fact, but Sam could see right through all the layers. He could see how thin his brother's wrists had become when the sleeves of his jacket rode up every time he made a turn, or took a drink of his coffee. It was most obvious in his face though, his cheekbones more prominent than Sam could ever remember.

He wondered what exactly had happened while he was gone, and what led his older brother to become what he now was. He prayed that the person he looked up most to when he was a child wasn't dying of cancer or some other debilitating disease. It would be just like Dean to pretend everything was alright, but be suffering silently like he was so good at, Sam thought.

His gaze gradually traveled from Dean to the interior of the car, taking note of how clean it all was. The floorboards were freshly vacuumed, there wasn't any sign of trash of any kind anywhere (nor food for that matter), and the windows looked like they'd been washed on the inside and out. The damned thing was practically spotless. It looked even better than how their father had kept the car, which brought up another thought.

Their father had loved this car, but Sam knew that Dean had always secretly loved it more, and he wondered when exactly, their dad had given it to him. His gaze returned to his brother for just a moment, and Sam knew then that something had most definitely happened during their three years apart. It nagged at him for the rest of the drive.

SPNSPNSPN

Something about the car stopping must have woke him from his sleep, at least that's what Sam reasoned with himself when he opened his still sleep-filled eyes. It was dark, with the exception of the flashing neon motel sign stating that there was a vacancy. He quickly wiped a bit of drool from the side of his chin, and sat up, taking in his surroundings.

Did he really just drive sixteen hours straight with no sleep? The thought suddenly struck him. Of course he did. Dad might be here.

The place looked rundown, as any place with the name Dude in it would. It was probably the cheapest place around though, Sam thought; it wasn't like their family could afford much better. His attention fell on the office in which Dean was currently in, but Sam wasn't liking how long it was taking him. After about three minutes, he watched his brother give the attendant a thankful smile, quickly exiting afterward. One of Sam's eyebrows quirked up when he saw the grin grow wider the closer Dean got to the car.

"What is it?" the youngest Winchester asked after Dean opened up the passenger side car door, motel keys dangling in hand.

"Dad's here," he replied, his green eyes showcasing a hopeful desperation Sam had too many times before.

"How do you know?" Sam inquired, exiting the car and looking down at his older brother.

"This," Dean pointed to the credit card in his hand.

"Hector Aframian?" Sam asked incredulously. "Seriously, you couldn't have thought of a better name than that? You're not a Jewish mexican. Not even close."

"Besides the point now, Sammy," Dean stated with an irritated glance. "The guy inside asked if we were having a family reunion. Told me that a Burt Aframian checked in a week ago, room number 205. That's Dad!"

"That's great," Sam said, tight-lipped. He hated the way his older brother would jump at their father's beck and call, always eager to please someone that couldn't be. "Lead the way," Sam said, clasping his left hand with his right and pulling it away from his chest, both thumbs pointing upward. He didn't like the feeling that was starting to stir in his chest, but he pushed it aside, unsure of what it meant exactly.

He followed his older brother up to the motel door, the numbers 205 staring back at them from peeling white paint. Dean looked to Sam for a moment before peering in the motel window, and the brunette could easily see the disappointment that lined his older brother's face.

"He's not in there, is he?" Sam asked when Dean looked at him. His older brother shook his head no. Sam held his hand out to Dean expectantly, a mischievous look set upon his youthful features.

"What?" Dean asked, green eyes telling nothing and everything at the same time.

"Give me your lock pick," Sam ordered, watching his older brother reluctantly remove the tool from his pocket. It only took the younger Winchester a few seconds to get the door open, and he went inside. When he realized he wasn't being followed, he looked back outside the door and saw Dean standing there, staring out at the parking lot. Letting a sigh part his lips, he grabbed a hold of his brother's jacket and pulled him inside, a small smirk set upon his mouth.

Both their eyes widened at the state of the room. There were various papers and news articles and clippings taped to the walls, a non-broken salt line covering the threshold and both windows, and clothes and trash scattered across the floor.

Sam glanced at his brother and hated the look he was seeing on his face; there was some kind of deep hurt there, but as soon as Dean felt his eyes on him, it was gone, just like that.

"He's been gone at least a few days," Dean stated, staring at a half eaten hamburger tossed carelessly on the nightstand.

"Yeah, but it looks like he was here for exactly what you thought he was," Sam stated, pointing to some of the newspaper clippings on the wall. "I wonder why he left in such a hurry though..." Sam looked to his older brother only to find him staring right at him. "What is it?"

Dean shook his head and looked away, his gaze falling on the motel table. Sam didn't miss the widening of his brother's eyes when it fell on their father's journal. He watched Dean make his way over to the table and snatch it up quickly as though it were going to grow legs and run away. This, of course, made the youngest Winchester curious. One, the fact that their father left it seemingly without a second thought; and two, his older brother was looking more and more like he was going to hide it away for safe keeping without even giving it a second thought.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked, forehead creasing in confusion, a hand going to his hip.

"What do you mean 'what's going on'? Nothing's going on," Dean responded, his right hand forming an "O" shape under his chin. He then threw it outward, a little too sharply for Sam's liking.

"I'm not going to help you with anything until you tell me what's going on. First, you come get me in the middle of the night, saying Dad disappeared while you were on a hunt on your own, which I don't believe, by the way. Second, you look ill, and if this is some quest where you're trying to find Dad before you di-"

"Shut up, Sam. I'm not dying," Dean stated, a concealed anger in his green eyes.

Sam stared at him, eyes narrowed at the sound of his brother's voice. It was raspy, and sounded like he was just getting it back after losing it or something. This only made the youngest Winchester even more curious.

"Then tell me what's going on," Sam countered, folding his arms across his chest.

"I already told you. Dad disappeared, and he hasn't answered any of my texts in the last three weeks. If you don't want to help, then you can go back to Stanford, and I'll finish this myself. Sorry I took you away from your apple pie life," Dean stated, going back into silent mode. All his hand movements were sharp, angry, and defensive. He snatched his father's research from his little brother's hand, and went over to the motel table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Sam rolled his eyes, and sighed. He hadn't seen his older brother in three years, and so much had changed about the middle Winchester, yet so much had also stayed the same. Especially his I-can-do-it-myself-thanks attitude. Sam supposed that part of Dean would never go away.

The brunette forced his long legs to take him over to the table, taking note that his older brother wasn't so much as even acknowledging his presence. And he calls me stubborn, Sam thought. He pulled out the remaining chair and sat down adjacent from Dean, staring at him until his brother finally met his gaze.

"You done bitching now? Cos I can keep reading," Dean declared, glancing down at the papers, fingers flying almost too fast for Sam to understand them.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized, his hand forming an "A" sign. He moved it clockwise a few times over his heart, and gave Dean his best puppy dog eyes. "I just worry about you. You are my brother, you know."

Dean stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "So are you in, or are you pussying out?" a serious expression set upon his features. It slipped into a hint of a smile when his younger brother's expression transformed from a sorry one into his perfected bitch-face.

"Yes, I'm going to help you," Sam replied, annoyance clearly etched into his features. "Where do we start?" He watched his older brother's hands start to fly, his fingers moving quickly and effortlessly while he explained his plan. Sam nodded along, a neutral expression taking over, but he still couldn't push the feeling that there was more going on than what Dean had originally attested to. This was going to be the longest weekend ever; he was sure of it.

A/N : Thank you all SO much for your kind reviews. It's been a very hard week with my husband having lost his job, so I haven't had much time to write. MANY THANKS goes to zhen123, astafir, Writer With Sprite, Glades of Grey, Adorereading, Imperial Dragon, heather03nmg, Anon, d767468, PrettyGirlyFan, Alibye, JJJFan, idlewild1, shammy101, kissacazador, and Wataru Kisugi. I hope this chapter sufficed. Thank you all again. More to come soon...;)