Hi all! This story is the rewrite of Broken Places. Many thanks to those of you who faithfully reviewed Broken Places and encouraged me when I decided to redo it. I've left it up so that I can keep your reviews.

I hope everyone is safe and well. I'm working at home but have been quite busy and have had even less time to write. Still, I've been slowly (but steadily!) working on this story since February. Today I'm uploading the prologue, as well as Part I. There will be five parts. Parts I and II are complete. Part III is nearly done, and Part IV and V are outlined. The prologue here corresponds with Chapter 1 of Broken Places, but the differences due to the rewrite begin with Part I.

I welcome your feedback and questions, but enough of my ramblings - enjoy!

Summary: "Here is no water but only rock," Sam recited. "Rock and no water and the sandy road, the road winding above among the mountains, which are mountains of rock without water."

Warnings: Show-level violence.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Starring: Sam, Dean, Bobby, and a few other scattered characters.

Prologue

"Sam? Where are you?"

"Library."

Dean threw his keys and jacket onto the kitchen table and ducked around a pile of books. Bobby had gotten it into his head to organize, but it seemed like he was making an even bigger mess in the process. There was junk everywhere, cluttering up the floors. Sam was probably thrilled.

"Hey, man."

Sam grunted an affirmative. He was buried in a book that smelled like wet dog, and Dean spared a moment's pity for whatever animal had sacrificed its skin for the pages.

"Dude."

"Yeah."

"Hello? Anybody home?"

"Yeah, hi."

So much for that brotherly reunion. Dean sighed and went back to the kitchen. He'd driven straight from a haunting in Arkansas and he desperately needed a drink, food, and a nap. Preferably in that order.

He fished a beer and day-old brisket out of the fridge and made his way back to the library. Bobby hated it when they ate in the library, but Bobby wasn't here.

"Where'd Bobby go?"

"Hunt with Rufus."

Dean hummed and washed his brisket down with beer.

When he woke up, Sam was gone. The sun was also gone, and someone had covered him with a blanket. Sam, maybe, or Bobby had gotten back.

He groaned and stretched, working out the final kinks from his eleven-hour drive. His stomach grumbled.

Sam was in the kitchen, making ham and cheese sandwiches. Dean frowned. He'd been looking forward to a Bobby-cooked meal.

"Hey, dude, thanks for the blanket."

"Had to cover up your ugly face."

"My face is rugged. Handsome. All the girls say so."

Sam's only response was to roll his eyes.

"You doing okay?"

"Yes, Dean." Another roll of the eyes. He was already exasperated. Great. But Dean was Dean and Sam was Sam and they would play this charade out to the end.

"Doing your stretches?"

"… mostly."

"Sam, you know you gotta do them."

"Exactly, Dean. I know, so why are you telling me?"

They ate their sandwiches.

It was nearly midnight, but Dean was wide awake thanks to his pre-dinner nap. Iron Man was on TV again. Seemed like Iron Man was always on, Sunday nights. Sam was buried in a book. Probably the same one as before, given the smell. Dean wrinkled his nose.

"Sam?"

Sam sighed and closed the book.

"What, Dean." It wasn't really a question.

"You been having more dreams." That wasn't really a question, either.

"… yes."

"You been writing them down?"

"Yes, Dean. I write them down right away and then I give them to Bobby. What is this, 'pick on Sam' week?

"What do you mean? I'm just trying to check on you. You're too good at lying over the phone so I gotta come see my kid brother in person sometimes."

Dean kept his tone light. Sam didn't.

"Oh, so you just came to check on me because you don't trust me."

"No! Sam… why you always gotta…"

The Jericho missile exploded on the TV. It made both brothers flinch.

There was silence for a moment.

"Was Dad here, too? What did you mean, 'pick on Sam' week?"

"He came by on Wednesday. Asked the same questions you just did. You guys could communicate, once in a while."

"I guess."

Dad and Dean didn't talk much, these days.

"Well, if that's the end of the interrogation, I'm beat." And then, because they really had missed each other despite their best efforts, "Night, Dean."

"Night, Sam."

Sam wheeled out of the room.

I would love to hear what you think! Have a lovely evening, and happy Easter!