The Journey

Dean talked even less now than he used to. Since Dad left again, he had been very quiet most of the time and it weared on Sam. He was worried about his brother, but any attempt that he made to get him to open up always ended with frustration as Dean either made some flip joke or got angry or just walked away. He wanted the old Dean back, the one that gave him shit about everything that he did, the one who screwed with him when they had been in the car for ten hours and Sam's own thoughts were driving him mad. He just wanted his brother back.

Dad's words, though possessed by the Big Bad when he said them, still stung Dean. "They don't need you. Not like you need them!" rang in his ears whenever the self-doubt began to creep in. John had tried to talk to him about it, but Dean had just waved him off with an "I know" when John tried to explain afterward how "important" he was. But he didn't know, not really. His father loved him, his brother loved him, Dean knew that. They really did need him. But not like he loved them, not like he needed them, not like he needed to protect them and keep them safe. His family was all he had left now. His family was the only reason he was still around, because protecting his family was the only thing that kept him sane.

Dean had dealt with enough evil things to know that these things really do read minds and lie, but the words that come out are usually grounded in some sort of truth. Sammy's resentment of him that finally came out at Ellicott's asylum, Dad's words the night he was possessed, his own words to Sam when the shapeshifter had assumed his form… all were based in some truth.

Big Bad was right, Dean did use sarcasm and wit to mask pain; a dark ugly pain that he shared with no one. Dean really had dreams of his own once, a long time ago. Before reality had completely set in and he realized that this would truly be his life, his whole life. Before hunting had hardened him so much that he could shut down everything when necessary to get the job done, he'd had dreams. Hunting was all he really knew how to do anymore. Hunting was the only thing that made sense. Hunting kept him busy, kept his mind focused, kept him from thinking about those lost dreams and all the pain. Hunting and keeping Sam safe. That was his life now. That was his dream now. Big Bad wanted his little brother. Dean didn't know why; it didn't matter why. All that mattered was getting rid of that son of a bitch so that his brother could be safe. Once Sam was safe, really safe, Dean's job would finally be done. And he was tired. Damn tired. Too damn tired to care about anything else anymore.

Sam's thoughts still lingered with Lauren. Why would this demon go after her? Why did it think that she would know how to find him? What was the connection? It made no sense. Or was it just a way to get to him, to Dean, to Dad? Did the demon send him his visions somehow? Playing with him and leading him to where the demon wanted him to go?

Lauren was beautiful. She was smart, sassy, and WAY out of Sam's league. He was still basically just a kid and she was several years older. But she had a smile that just made everything ok. He admired the hell out of her. Her father had been in the military, so she'd grown up handling guns, knowing how to defend herself, and knowing how to get the upper hand in nearly every situation. Sam couldn't believe Dean hadn't immediately remembered her. At one point, Dean had even pointed out that if any girl would be a good hunter, it would be her. Sam smiled as he remembered the night Lauren and Dean had met. Lauren and Sam had been having dinner and Sam was walking her home. Dean thought it would be funny to sneak up behind them, realizing how much Sam liked this girl, wanting to check her out for himself, and wanting to screw around with Sam's head. Lauren heard the rustling behind them (Sam hadn't) and before Sam had a chance to turn fully around; Dean was laid out in the grass, grabbing his side and looking down the barrel of a .45 now pointed directly between his eyes. Sam explained to Lauren who Dean was and talked her into putting the gun away. Lauren reached down to help Dean up, but said nothing. She looked at him, her eyes flicking quickly between his, then looked him up and down before turning back toward the direction they had originally been walking and moving on toward her house like nothing had happened.

Dean caught up to them and said, "Aren't you going to apologize?" She turned quickly on one heel to face him, her green eyes locked with his, studying him again. Then she said, "Why should I apologize for you being a dumb ass?" Sam grinned as for the first time in his life, he saw Dean absolutely speechless.

"Nice girl Sammy, where'd you find her?" Dean asked as they kept walking. His pace was a little slower and he winced from the pain in his ribs. Sam and Lauren said nothing, just grinning at each other for a moment. Dean's brow furrowed, not liking to be the brunt of someone else's humor. They got back to her house and Lauren invited them in. She brought Sam and Dean each a beer and went back to the fridge to get her own.

"You know," Dean said to Lauren, smiling his classic smile and leaning against the wall, "if you ever get bored with little brother here, I'd be happy to show you around the town a little, show you a good time." No matter how hard Sam tried, he could never get used to Dean hitting on the girls he liked. Lauren turned from the refrigerator, looked at Dean, and smiled. She walked over to him, pulled him away from the wall, then slowly walked around him in a circle, visibly checking him out. She thought for about two seconds then said, "Nice ass. You're a cocky one, but I could deal with that." She took Dean's shirt off, putting her hand on his side, smiling as she saw the hairs stand up, responding to her touch. "You'd probably be great in bed…" She looked up at Dean and he grinned even bigger. Sam knew what was coming, realizing Dean had just been reeled in. "For about 30 seconds. But then we'd have to talk, and…" she sighed visibly, "I'd get bored pretty quick!" Lauren pressed firmly along Dean's ribs, observing the bruise that was already starting to develop there, noting Dean's wince as she did so. "Now quit being a baby, they're not even cracked!" She flipped his shirt back to him and sat down at the table with Sam, clinking their beer bottles together as she winked at him, laughing. God, Sam missed that laugh.

Too Late

They had stopped for a map when they got into town so they could find the building Lauren worked at in the maze of downtown skyscrapers. Since Sam's vision had shown she was attacked at work, he wanted to start there since it was already late the next night by the time they got into Tampa.

When they pulled up to the building, Sam was relieved to see no police or ambulance activity in the area. Dean suggested they go up the stairwells to avoid drawing the attention of security and maybe head off the demon before Lauren even encountered it. He took one stairwell and Sam took another. Each started cautiously up the stairs, weapons drawn, muscles tense, ready for anything.

Dean didn't like it, not one bit. They should be together. He couldn't protect Sam if he encountered the demon, but Sam was so worried that they'd be too late that he'd insisted they separate to cover more ground quickly. Suddenly, Dean's phone rang, startling him. It was Sam, breathing heavy. "Dean. Southwest stairwell, 3rd floor, hurry!" His heart racing, he exited the stairwell he was in as quietly as he could to avoid rousing the attention of security and sprinted to the one Sam had directed him to. As he started to run up the stairs, he paused halfway up the second flight. It was there that he first saw the blood. He drew his gun again, then heard Sam yell, "He's not here Dean, he's gone. Oh God!" Dean heard sirens outside. Sam had already called 911.

"She's still breathing," Sam said, his breaths shallow and rapid. Dean rounded the corner. There was a body heaped on the floor and more blood than he thought one body could actually contain all around. Dean saw Sam's face, pale, holding Lauren's head up as he had listened for her breathing. "Dean, I don't think she's going to make …" Dean hushed him with a look as he checked their surroundings to ensure that they were truly alone.

If it weren't for the ID badge, Sam wouldn't have recognized Lauren. Her face was swollen and bruised, her hair was starting to cake with blood, and her body looked like a rag doll that had been tossed aside by a child who didn't want to play with it anymore. His breath caught and Dean looked at him as he said, "What the…?"

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"This looks like, no, it can't be." Sam said.

"What?" Dean asked again. Sam cocked his head to one side. "It looks like the chain you used to wear, with the shield and the lion on it. Dad said it was for protection. The one he gave you when you were ten because you kept getting hurt all the time."

"Huh," Dean said curiously as he looked at the pendant Sam held in his hand, secured to a chain wrapped around Lauren's neck. "That's weird. Maybe Dad just found it at some pawn shop and made the protection story up. I wasn't always as graceful as I am today," he said, feigning a smile.

"Dean, I've never seen another chain like…" Sam's voice caught in his throat and the tears burned his eyes, blinding him for a moment before he blinked them back. "Dean, she can't, it's my fault." He was about to say something else, but stopped as he heard the sirens very close by now.

"Go find her office and try to get some answers, clues to what he wants, where he may have gone." Dean told him. Sam looked at him like he was nuts and started to shake his head no. "You saw it all in your vision, I don't know what her office looks like Sam. She might be married now with a different name." He stopped, and then said, "Besides, you're too close to this right now. Focus! I'll find out which hospital they're taking her to and meet you there later and see what I can dig up on that end. Go!"

Sam was halfway up to the top level of the building by the time the paramedics got to Lauren. Dean went up a floor, picked the lock to get into the main building, and then went to the other stairwell to come down. He approached the paramedics wheeling Lauren into a waiting ambulance. "Oh my God, Lauren?" he asked, feigning shock. "I knew something was wrong when she didn't call and didn't come home. What happened? I'm following you to the hospital," he said, running back to the Impala for added emphasis. He didn't need to be here when the cops showed up and started asking questions.

Sam pulled the EMF reader out, but got nothing on it. He checked the top floor, then worked his way down, carefully combing each level looking for something familiar from his vision that would tell him he was on the right floor or a blip on the EMF. Nada.

Dean made his way to the nurses' station at the hospital where they had brought Lauren in. The doctor came out to see him, his face very grave. "I suggest you call the rest of her family. She probably won't make it. They may want to say goodbye." Dean blinked, started to say something, then stopped. "I don't know who to call," he said quietly. It was going to be a while before they would know anything, he was told, so he made his way to the cafeteria for some coffee.

Some time later, he rounded the corner to the nurses' station and inquired about Lauren again. "Like I told him," she said, pointing over her shoulder. "She'll be in a room in ICU in a few minutes."

"Who?" Dean asked, looking around, seeing no one. "That's funny," the nurse said as she looked around. "I guess he left. Anyway, go down that hall and make your first left. Her doctor will fill you in and then you can sit with her if you want."

As he entered the intensive care unit, the same grave faced doctor found him again. "She's lost a lot of blood and she's bleeding internally. At this point, we're just trying to keep her comfortable. She probably won't even wake up. She's in ICU 3." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, "I'm sorry son."

Dean slowly walked into the room. God, he hated hospitals. He hated the smell, he hated the pain, the suffering, the death. He took a deep breath and walked over to the bed, pulling up a chair as he looked down on the face so battered, so bruised. The doctors had cleaned away the blood, but she still looked broken. He glanced down at the protection pendant that hung around her neck, then brushed the hair back and away from her eyes.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch personally for this, Lauren," he said, his voice cracking. He blinked back tears as his lips began to quiver and his hand shook slightly. "I promise you that!"