Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY.
A/N: Again, I'm sorry for making the last chapter so short. This one is longer, I promise. So sorry for not updating as well! I started college and have been crazy busy with homework and adjusting. But here is chapter 8. Chapter 9 is longer and will hopefully answer some questions for you guys as well. Anyway, hopefully this will answer some questions and help you figure more things out. If not, I KNOW most of your questions will be answered in chapters 10 and 11! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave a review!
The lines mean either time change or POV change.
The next day Dean started some physical therapy and a week later he was walking on his own and discharged from the hospital. He had requested not to have any contact with Sam and hadn't heard anything of his brother's progress the whole time. But the time alone had given him plenty of time to think over what had happened and Dean finally - after much deliberation - decided to give his brother another chance and try to talk to him.
As Dean was filling out the last of his paperwork with his doctor, he broached the topic. "So, how's Sam doing?" He tried to be casual about how he said it, but he felt a twinge of guilt as he asked. He knew it had been a week without a single word, but he had just needed some space.
Dr. Wilde finished writing a couple of notes then looked carefully up at him. "I'm not permitted to disclose information on Sam's well being."
Dean felt his jaw drop. "Why not?"
"When you made the decision to break off communication with Sam, he decided to do the same and is now in the care of another doctor. I don't even know who. He may even be in another hospital for all I know." The doctor met Dean's eyes with a measured stare, gauging his reaction.
"Why would he do that?" Dean said lowly to himself. He couldn't believe Sam would cut him off so completely. It wasn't like his brother, at least the brother he knew, the Sam he knew would have fought to find Dean and done everything he could to talk to him. But this isn't the Sam you knew, Dean reminded himself.
Dr. Wilde, thinking Dean had addressed him, responded, "Same reason as you: privacy."
That statement threw Dean off. If what the doctor said was true, then what was Sam hiding from him? Why didn't he just tell Dean? Because you pushed him away. Dean refused to believe that. "Okay, well, thanks for everything, doc," Dean answer the other man, holding his hand out to shake.
Dr. Wilde took it saying, "No problem at all, Dean. I hope you have safe drive home." Dean released his hand and turned to leave when the doctor put his hand on Dean's shoulder, pulling him close. "Between you and me," the doctor spoke in a low voice, "Find Sam. Last I saw, he wasn't doing too well. Very... troubled." Dr. Wilde pulled away and gave a single nod before walking away, leaving Dean to process what he had said.
Bewildered at the doctor's warning, Dean went back to the motel room where he found all his stuff, but none of Sam's. He knew that he needed to clear out - the manager had probably figured out his credit card faker than a three dollar bill and would be after them soon. He was concerned at the absence of Sam's belongings, but escaping the wrath of the motel took precedence.
Once he had put fifty miles between himself and the town, he decided to try and call Sam. Predictably, Sam's phone went to voicemail. "Damn it!" Dean yelled, slamming his fists against the steering wheel. He allowed himself a moment of panic before taking a deep breath and reflecting on where his brother may have gone.
Sam used to run straight to him whenever he was in trouble. Clearly, things had changed, and now Dean was clueless on how to handle him. There was only one way to learn more... He sped off towards Martinsville, California to see what he could find out on his brother.
Nearly thirty-six hours later Dean was finally pulling into the apartment complex where Sam had been living. A mixture of emotions ran through him as he looked up at the third floor of the complex where Sam had been living. There were no lights on, which didn't bode well for Dean. Just get it over with, he told himself.
He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. He waited. No answer. He checked to make sure no one was around before picking the lock. He heard a satisfying click, and pushed the door open. It was completely silent inside. He turned on a light and started walking through, paying careful attention to all the details and things that Sam had. He saw very few decorations on the walls and shelves. He didn't see much of... anything really. Everything he saw had a purpose and it was kept very neat. In the living room there was a bookshelf with no more than 20 books - at least half of them textbooks - and a small, two-person sofa and a desk in the corner with a lamp and other standard desk materials. In the kitchen the counters were bare of any mess and looked exactly as it had when he had been there... almost three weeks ago. Dean was startled that so much time had passed. He didn't bother looking through the kitchen or tiny bathroom - if Sam had anything of value, it would be in his bedroom. He walked down a short hall to where he assumed the bedroom was. Taking a deep breath he stepped in, turned on the light and looked around. Nothing. It was as bare as the rest of the apartment. Dean growled in frustration and slammed his fist on the dresser.
Then he smelled it. Inhaling deeply, Dean could smell the awful, rotten-egg stench of sulfur. Dean searched for the source and found dust laying all around the nightstand on the opposite side of the king sized bed. Based on the amount there was, Dean guessed there were maybe three or four demons here at one point. The only strange part was that there was no sign of a fight. The sheets on the large bed (the size of which itself was weird) weren't ruffled - in fact, looked even freshly made.
Dean's head was reeling. Did this mean that his brother had summoned one? Dean wanted to deny it, but he had no idea what state his brother was in. Even if he did, there was no way he could predict Sam's behavior. Even if he had one, there was so much sulfur, there was no way only one showed up.
Dean massaged his temples. Clearly, he knew nothing about his brother. He also needed help. Dean pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He couldn't call John for obvious reasons - the biggest one being his father would never agree to help with anything that involved Sam. Even though over eleven years had passed, he still held a lot of residual resentment towards Sam. Hell, a month ago Dean was in the same boat. The only other hunters he could trust enough to work with on any given case were Caleb, Pastor Jim, and Bobby. Of those, he trusted Bobby the most.
Bobby had always had a soft spot for Sam and Dean. He was like a surrogate father to them growing up. They would often spend many hours in the salvage yard playing games or watching Bobby fix up the cars. Dean was the one who mostly watched, and sometimes even helped with the cars. Sam enjoyed looking through Bobby's books. Sometimes he would look at the ones that were about monsters, but he didn't read it to learn how to kill them. He liked the history behind all the different kinds of creatures. Dean didn't really care. All he bothered with was how to gank the filthy things. Their relationship with Bobby ended abruptly when his father got into a drunken fight with the older man and Bobby threatened to shoot him if he ever showed up again. When they left, Bobby made it very clear to the brothers that he would always be there for them if they ever needed anything. Sam never spoke with Bobby after that. Dean on the other hand would frequently lean on Bobby for help with various hunts. He was a good, reliable resource and hunting partner. He knew that if there was anything that he couldn't go to John with, Bobby would help him, no questions asked and, more importantly, without telling his father.
Even though Dean knew all this to be true, he still hesitated about whether to call him. Bobby hadn't spoken to Sam in many years and may have no idea how to help. Not to mention he could be busy with something else. Even if he wasn't, Dean had never called for anything other than hunting. He won't let you down, Dean told himself. He steeled up his courage and pressed the call button.
Bobby answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Hey, Bobby. What's happening?" Dean answered casually. He didn't want to bother Bobby if he was busy with another hunt.
He snorted. "You know, same old. Just sitting around the house answering phone calls from almost every hunter in the freakin' world. What about you, kid? Keeping your nose clean?"
Dean chuckled half-heartedly. If was going to ask for help, now was the time. "As best I can, old man." He paused for a moment before blurting, "I need your help."
"That's what I do. Do you still need help with that Wendigo? I know of a couple trustworthy hunters nearby that could back you up," Bobby replied.
"No, I took care of that already. No... it's a bit more... personal," he said.
"Quit beatin' round the bush and tell me what's going on then," Bobby demanded.
Dean cracked a smile and sat down on the bed. "Working on it. Sam called me a few weeks ago." Dean felt himself tense up and listened intensely for Bobby's response.
There was a loud clattering sound and a curse from Bobby. "Sorry, I dropped my cup of coffee. It was empty though." Bobby answered, his voice a bit rougher than before. He cleared his throat. "Sam called you? What did he want?"
Dean could tell Bobby knew something, but put it aside for the moment. "I don't know. He apologized but never said why called me. We met up at his apartment in California. I, uh... I walked out on him." Dean ended softly. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the angry outburst that was sure to come.
Bobby sighed. "I probably should have expected that from an idgit like you... Tell me what happened."
Dean told Bobby everything from how Sam followed him to Nevada and how they hunted the Wendigo together, finishing with the fight at the hospital and Dean's findings in the apartment. Bobby was silent through all of it, asking very few questions and giving Dean plenty of space to let it all off his chest. By the time Dean finished, forty-five minutes had passed, he was out of breath, and it felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Bobby let out a deep huff of air. "Well, I guess I better hit the road." There were rustling noises in the background, indicating Bobby getting his stuff together.
Dean silently thanked the universe. "Thank you so much, Bobby, I'll text you the address." Dean ended the call and immediately sent Bobby the address. He put the phone down and looked around. May as well get settled in and do some more poking around.
A/N: There it is! I hope you guys have been enjoying the longer chapters. I know I have! What do you think of how Dean is treating the Sam situation? Where do you think Sam is? You'll find out soon enough! I can't wait to finish this simply so I can say I did and to hear about your reactions! I love hearing from you guys and reading your lovely reviews. They give me so much motivation to write more and write better. I love you all so much, thank you again for reading my story and reviewing. You have no idea how much this means to me.
P.S. - for those of you who want to hear from Sam: his POV for at least the next chapter.