The Beckoning

Chapter Three: Unreachable

Author's Note: Of course I need to thank ALL of you who read/reviewed…thank you SO much. I'm sorry it's been a few days since my last post. It's just, one of my cats is really sick, and today she finally had surgery and I found out earlier she might not make it through the night…so, I've just had that on my mind as I finished writing this. Please forgive any choppiness…I tried to make it flow but I might have gotten caught up with trying to get the story moving faster for you. If anyone has any questions or concerns, feel free to bring them up and I'll answer.

Now, I'm gonna go pray for my kitty. But you can stick around and read and review, if ya like. Feedback is certainly appreciated. Thanks so much.

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"I'm already dead."

What? That voice…where have I heard it before?

The darkness was everywhere, the moonlight was gone…

But I could hear laughter, that mocking laughter…

"I'm already dead." He laughs.

Why is that so familiar…

"You should remember me. I haven't forgotten you…"

"Who are you?"

Silence. And then…

"I am your biggest mistake, and your brother will pay the price."

"No!" Sam heard the word shouting out of his mouth before his eyes opened, shaken awake from another nightmare. The thought, the voice…it was making itself known as something familiar. Sam felt the presence of this voice was someone he'd met before…he just couldn't place it, not just yet.

Realizing his abrupt yell woke Dean, he mentally cursed himself.

"Is everything ok? You alright?" A typical, standard question…but Dean's concern was still mingled in there somewhere, or maybe Sam just hoped it was there.

"Yeah, sorry, just…I guess I was having a nightmare, or something," Sam stirred in his chair. "Uh, how are you feeling?" It had been a few hours and sleep, albeit restless, had caught up with Sam enough. He couldn't be bothered anymore by sleep, and he had to admit his body was becoming rather adjusted to functioning with just a few hours of sleep. He could do better, but not when he needed to be there for Dean.

"My head still really hurts, pretty much my entire body is aching, my mouth is kind of dry, and I'm really hungry," Dean answered groggily. The latter part of the statement made Sam smile. Dean could always eat. "You're Sam, right?"

"Yeah,"

"And I'm Dean,"

"That's you,"

"And we're brothers?"

"On our good days," Sam tried making a joke, but judging by the look on Dean's face it wasn't very humorous. Sam took the lighthearted grin off his face and cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah, we're brothers."

"Right. So, whose blood is that on your shirt?" Dean asked, having no idea it was his and Sam had no heart to tell him. Sam regretted not taking a few moments to change clothes when he first dropped Dean off at the E.R.

There was a knock at the door. Sam saw Dr. Chase standing outside the door and motioned him to come in, gladly accepting a diversion from the question.

"Good afternoon," he stepped inside and shut the door quietly. Sam glanced at his watch, nearly 2 p.m. "And how are you feeling, Dean?"

"Oh, fine I guess. Still can't remember anything," he tried to laugh but didn't allow himself. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Well, that's what I came here to talk to you about, actually." Dr. Chase had walked over to Dean, and now flashed a light into his eyes, asking him to follow it. "I've been looking at your charts and you're recovering quite well so far, considering you fell three stories."

With the look on Dean's face, it seemed he fell again, hitting each proverbial floor like hitting reality for the first time.

"Does he still have to stay overnight?" Sam interjected, not really wanting a discussion on where they were when the accident occurred, which would probably lead into a 'why they were there' question.

"I don't want to release him just yet, but with the progression we've seen so far,"

"He's had a concussion before," Sam stood up now, and grabbed Dean's attention. "And I know all about them and what changes to watch for. If I can, I'd like to get him…" Sam struggled to find a word that didn't sound so much like home, which preached the mental image, an assurance, of a family there waiting. "I'd like to get him out…and get back to life, you know? You said yourself he's recovering well, and I'll take care of him, I promise."

The doctor finished taking Dean's pulse and put a skeptical eye on Sam, who stood on the opposite side of his brother.

Sam appeared to Dr. Chase as to be asking permission to care for his brother. As if someone had told him he wasn't capable of taking care of his sibling. This young man had something to prove.

"Could I talk to you in the hall, for a moment?" The doctor asked. Sam nodded.

"I'll be right back," Sam told his brother, who at the moment stared at the space between Sam and Dr. Chase like he had no idea what was going on. And he didn't.

"Okay, I'll just wait here," Dean muttered, halfway pouting.

"You care a lot about your brother, I can see that. Right now, you know more about him than he does, and if you were him I'm sure you'd find that just a little bit alarming. Just be careful what you say around him. I've seen patients react differently to hearing things about a life they supposedly have been living,"

Sam understood and appreciated the doctor's warning and concern, but then again he supposed that was in his job description after all. What Dr. Chase told him made sense, but it worried Sam into acknowledgment just the same.

"We'll keep him here for at least a couple more hours, just so we can make further observations. I trust you'll bring him back to the hospital if anything changes, even subtly, hmm?"

"Absolutely, yeah," Sam would do whatever necessary to save his brother's life.

-:-

Sam gave Dean some more time to recuperate and went to clean up the bloodied Impala, as well as change clothes himself. He also brought a fresh change of clothing for his brother when he returned just a little while later. Upon receiving news of Dean's release, Sam was pleased.

While Dean stayed behind to change into his more typical attire, Sam went down to the hospital lobby to sign out. He never missed any of the hospitals he'd ever been to, but he definitely wouldn't miss this one. It was at this place where he'd come closest to losing his brother.

Sam signed the paper and turned to head outside and wait for Dean, but the desk clerk yelled for his attention.

Sam turned around, wondering what else he'd need to do or sign.

"Do you happen to know what happened to that other man?" She asked. Her voice was curt. Sam looked at her as if he was silently asking her to explain her question. The woman just sat there, waiting for a response.

"Um, what other man?" Sam finally gave in and asked.

"The one who came to see you and your...brother, was it? He gave the name, well hold on let me check again," She huffed, flipping through papers on a worn clipboard. "It was a...John...Jonathon Winters. He didn't sign out,"

Sam's heart sank somewhere untraceable. He didn't know a Jonathon Winters, but he knew their father...at least he thought he did.

"Excuse me?"

"I know! Some nerve, not signing out. I told him it was the hospital policy."

"Yeah, sure, um...when did he come in?"

"It was sometime after 10 this morning. I didn't see him leave, is he still up there with your brother?"

"No, he...he's gone." Sam wasn't exactly lying. The desk clerk had said something to Sam, but Sam didn't listen, didn't care. He left for the exit sullenly. His thoughts only focused on that other man...

He could only imagine what Dean would say if he knew their father came to see them. Their dad was okay, he was alive, but that wasn't enough for Sam. Dean could have died, and quite truthfully the Dean who Sam and their father knew was dead, at least momentarily; but even the death of son does not warrant enough interest to drop by and actually say hello to your own flesh and blood. Not for John Winters or any other John that Sam might happen to know.

There was harshness to the wind that shouldn't have been there, it was just a light breeze, but Sam felt it beat against him as he peered out into the full parking lot. Was their dad still there, watching somewhere far and away?

Why didn't he say he was here, that he was coming? Why didn't he show himself? Does he know Dean's condition? Does he care?

How can a man who faces the most unimaginable monsters be such a coward...?

Sam's thoughts fled away as the door opened and Dean walked out looking like Dean. No silly hospital gown, just his regular favored jeans, black shirt and leather jacket.

"Ready?" The young Winchester knew it was an odd question, but it was something that just came out in habit.

"Yeah...I think so," Dean answered with uncertainty. Sam began walking to the Impala and Dean followed, almost walking by it. Sam froze with shock.

"Where are you going?" he caught Dean's attention, whom had just been looking at the cloudy sky as he followed Sam.

"Oh, what? This is our car?" His eyes seemed to light up with satisfaction.

"More your car, but sometimes you let me drive," Sam said, feeling almost embarrassed for Dean that his most prized possession was deemed unrecognizable. Sam had half hoped that even if all memory of family was failing in Dean's mind, surely his baby would be remembered, if nothing else.

"Do I get to drive it now?" Dean sounded like a young boy, impatient to wait for his turn in doing something appealing and grand. Sam hid his grin. If only Dean could be aware of how ridiculous this sounded coming from him...

"Probably not until after you get over that concussion," In denying his brother right to drive his own vehicle, Sam was mentally ready for a punch coming straight to his face. Dean just sighed and put the palm of his hand to his forehead, as if remembering it hurt.

"Yeah, you're right...So, where are we going?"

Where were we going?

"Well...um, actually, we need to...get a motel," Sam spoke hesitantly. He waited for the next, appropriate question.

"Why a motel?"

"Because...we...I mean, our..."- don't say home, don't say home... -"Our place is being renovated. So we're gonna stay in a motel, just for a little while." Sam was trying to make himself feel better at the same time save Dean and himself a very awkward car ride.

Upon arriving at the nearest motel, spread vastly in the middle of nowhere, Sam instructed his older brother to wait in the car while he got them a room. He didn't want Dean to question the use of aliases and the illegal use of credit cards.

-:-

There was something uncannily welcoming to step inside a motel room after staying in a hospital. The unfamiliarity of this specific motel room was still found strikingly similar to many of the Winchester's childhood environments.

Sam frowned when Dean took a seat on one of the beds and glowered, as if the room was some kind of prison, dark and cold and empty. Sam quickly opened the curtains to let some light in, hoping that would help. The later afternoon sun was out and light splashed in, though it was on its way to dusk.

He then took a seat on the bed adjacent from his brother's. And, much to his dismay, silence fell into the room and with each passing second it seemed the silence would be even harder to dig out of.

He wanted to say something, anything to his brother. He wanted to say something comforting, most of all, like Dean would be able to say for Sam if he needed comfort.

He wanted to tell Dean that their Dad was at the hospital.

He couldn't, though.

And then Dean looked up at Sam, after staring a hole into the musty-looking carpet, and there was a sad inquisitiveness to his expression that Sam had only seen one other time in his life: When he told Dean he was leaving to Stanford.

It reminded Sam of an orphan's expression, after being rejected by a family they thought could be theirs, but all that orphan would take with them was the knowledge they were going to be alone. All alone. And why was he always the one left so alone?

"Sam…where is everyone?"

Sam jumped at the question. He wanted to ask, to prolong the answering, who he meant by everyone; but he knew who Dean meant. He didn't want to answer. He couldn't. How could he?

It shouldn't he his job to remind Dean of the family he didn't have. The mother he was denied. The father he was abandoned by. The brother who deserted him, but will never leave again…

"Sam? I wanted to ask before, but really I only now just started thinking about it. I mean, where are our parents?"

"I…" Sam began, and his throat tightened. "Well, what do you remember?"

Idiot. Sam thought. He has amnesia, what's he going to tell you?

But Sam was hoping the question might trigger some buried memory. Maybe, as Sam reasoned with himself, if he asked some questions, Dean might come up with the answers on his own. If Sam told him too much, he could force the memories to imprint themselves the way Sam tells it and maybe Dean would never truly remember.

"…Well, there's…" Dean seemed to be looking around him like his memories were orbs flying about, and he tried to focus on just one but it was always too quick. "Um…" Dean's breaths came closer together and his eyes watered.

He couldn't understand how the harder he tried to recall his past, he got absolutely nothing. It wasn't normal. He was fighting to be normal and losing the battle.

"It's okay," Sam blurted out, wanting to say anything to stop his older brother from having a panic attack.

"No, it isn't," Dean said, looking back at his brother with burning eyes. "It's not okay. I don't remember anything!"

"Dean, just…don't force it. Getting frustrated won't help."

"Right…because I'm sure if you didn't remember your mother, your father, and your own brother who is apparently sitting right across from you—you wouldn't feel a little bit frustrated."

Sam wished he could say he understood, but he didn't. He didn't want to tell his brother the truth, but he didn't want to lie.

"How is it only you who came to see me at the hospital? And why are we in some cheap motel? What about a…a friend's place, or…do I even have any friends?" Dean's eyes became large and he stood up, wincing from pain. He didn't know where he planned on going to in the small room.

Sam was biting his lip, trying not to lash out. He wasn't mad at Dean for asking questions he deserved to know the answers to, he was mad because he was alone in this. Where was his father to help him, to help Dean?

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. He wondered how it was that he went his whole life with Dean taking care of him, picking up after him, fixing his problems, just being a brother to him…and he couldn't have picked up a few pointers. Sam wasn't used to being the caretaker. He wanted to be, desperately needed to be now, but there he sat, wishing he could runaway.

Maybe I am like my Dad, more than I'd like to admit…

"Look, I can tell you everything. I will…but, right now…" Sam looked upward, pleading with whatever Higher Power might have pity enough to listen to him for some kind of aid. "We're…different."

"Different." Dean repeated, looking down. "How so?"

"If you remembered, you'd know why it'd be so difficult to answer that question…" Sam couldn't help the pain in his voice.

"That's just it, Sam! I don't remember…I don't know why that's such a tough question. I thought that…with you being my brother, you'd understand…"

The words attacked Sam as Dean spoke, his voice filled with a kind of pain Sam had never heard before. Guilt had been stabbed into Sam's heart.

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly. The words were pale compared to the vivid ardor behind them.

"Yeah, me too,"

Silence again. Both brothers' hated the silence, but neither knew how to communicate at the moment.

And Sam tried terribly hard to ignore the reality of tears falling from his big brother's eyes. It wasn't that Dean couldn't cry, it was that he didn't cry. He didn't cry in front of Sam, at least. And the young Winchester was reduced to a helpless bystander as his superhero brother became unreachable.

"Dean…"

"I don't really feel like talking right now," Dean said coldly, returning to his bed and facing away from Sam. "Besides, I'm getting the feeling that maybe I don't want to know who I am. You seem more afraid to tell me than I'm afraid not to know."

It was the undeniable truth.

"This is really hard for me, too," Sam held out for some palpable form of comprehension, maybe even compassion from his brother, and he felt selfish for it.

"I get it," Dean lied, crawling into a restful position, as much as his aching body would allow. He sniffled, acting as though the tears were nothing. Sam felt tears of his own forming.

"I need to do something. It's something I think might help you…" Sam spoke, now standing and tugging at his jacket uneasily.

He needed to find their father.

"You're leaving?" Dean asked tiredly, and the previous resentment in his tone had diminished.

"I won't be long. And when I get back, I'll tell you everything. I just need to take care of something…"

"…Alright,"

Sam walked into the bathroom and Dean listened with eyes closed as the faucet turned on. When he heard the water stop running, he briefly opened his eyes to catch the familiar stranger as he walked out of the bathroom. When he got a glimpse of him, he shut his eyes, trying to pretend he didn't care what this brother of his was up to.

With his eyes forcefully shut, he suddenly felt something cool and refreshing on his skin. He blinked his eyes open to see Sam standing above him, having placed a wet washcloth on his forehead.

"For the pain," Sam said quietly, his eyes smiling while at the same time glistening with grief. Dean relaxed, closed his eyes.

"Thanks," it was barely a whisper.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," The little brother declared to the older that was fast on his way to sleep.

Sam grabbed his cell phone and the car keys and walked to the door. He prayed Dean would be safe and silently cursed any creature or monster who might dare disturb him as he slept. They'd have hell to pay when Sam got back. Sam, reluctantly, locked his brother inside the cold, dark motel room and then walked to the car. The Impala was cold and dark, too, without Dean there…Sam shivered as he started the engine.

He needed to find their Dad, and though he had no idea where he was going, he just needed to drive. He needed to think, to get a handle on this situation. And unless by some gracious miracle he did find their Dad, he'd have one disturbing confession for Dean when he came back. And Sam was no where near ready.

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Dean quivered from the sudden draft in the empty room. Still half asleep, he turned over and faced the door, the washcloth falling off. Blinking open his eyes just for a moment, he saw the motel entrance slightly ajar, a twilight breeze flowing in and brushing across his face.

"Sam?" he called into the darkness. The door then shut. No footsteps were heard, no shadows seen. Dean sat up in the bed and looked around. He reached for the light switch and stopped when he heard it. A breath, sliding down his neck like a droplet of water, traveled down his entire body with a tremor. He swallowed hard and held still.

"Poor soul…abandoned, alone…" A voice spoke tenderly, bringing both comfort and dread. "You don't have to be alone anymore,"

Have I heard that voice somewhere before?

"But…I'm not alone, Sam's here…" Dean tried to speak back, not sure if his voice kept up with his words.

"He isn't here with you now. Do you even know where he went?"

Dean would have shaken his head no, but didn't want to move.

"He said he'd be back,"

"Do you believe that?" The voice hissed.

"I don't have much of a choice,"

"Oh, but don't you? We all have a choice…Sam chose to abandon you, just like your father, just like your mother."

"You know my parents?" Dean wanted to turn around now, but found himself immobile. He was scared, but there was something telling about the voice, this invisible man hid in shadows. He had answers, he knew things Dean could learn from him…but he couldn't shake the fear, or the interest.

"Only that they've abandoned you, like everyone has and everyone will. Your soul is cursed to be alone, Dean. However, I can save you from that curse…"

"But…Sam…he's"—

"Your brother?" Dean's thought was finished for him, striking him off guard and rendering him speechless. "You don't remember how he treated you, what he thinks of you. I could help you remember, if you want…"

And before Dean had a chance to respond, an image flashed into his mind like a bolt of lightening overtaking a sky crowded with storm clouds.

Sam stood there, pointing the gun at me, his finger edging the trigger. Why did he look so angry, so hateful?

His lips moved but I heard nothing. I was frozen, felt nothing.

And then he pulled the trigger. I heard the click of the empty bullet chamber, and then I felt it. The pain. The pain was searing through my chest. There was no blood, no bullet…just pain.

Please. Make the pain go away…

Dean opened his eyes.

He couldn't believe what he had just seen, and there was a new pain throbbing in his chest. He took in a deep breath, soaked with confusion and a wish to know he was having a nightmare and wasn't awake.

He saw the door was again open, just slightly, wavering in the wind. Dean drew the covers up to his chest, unable to identify a shred of evidence that he was safe.

He looked around the dark room, hoping Sam would be there, and then it hit him.

Sam wasn't there. He hadn't come back yet.

Will he ever come back?

And a new thought broke out from the corner of his mind.

Did Sam really care about him? Was that a nightmare he just saw, his brother trying to kill him? Or had it been something much worse…had it been a memory?

Dean felt the urge to pull the covers over his head and hide away. He was a child again, tormented by the monsters lurking around him, and the worst part of it was that he was alone. No one was there to protect him. No one was there to tell him it was okay.

It was just Dean, trapped alone in the dark with nothing but fear for company.

If only he knew his brother was on his way.

And now, Dean couldn't help but realize the idea of his brother coming back was what was scaring him most.

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To Be Continued…

Feedback would be wonderful, and as always, thanks for reading.

Silver Kitten