Chapter 3 – two and a half years later
Dean lounged against the side of his car, soaking in the last of the autumnal sun. He had parked his Dad's jet black '67 Impala outside a dormitory building on the Gallaudet campus in Washington DC, waiting for a sighting of his younger brother. It had been more than two years since they had seen each other in person, and Dean didn't know what kind of greeting to expect. In the beginning when Sam first moved away, they had texted a little here and there, and had even shared a couple of awkward video chats. But Sam had quickly realised that Dean still wasn't entirely on board with the college thing, and after one too many sarcastic comments from the elder brother, Sam just stopped answering. Dean, being just as stubborn as their father didn't want to make that first move to reconcile, so that was that.
Of course both he and John kept tabs on the kid from afar. They always knew where he was, and had even asked a few hunter friends who were passing through DC to surreptitiously check up on Sam. John hadn't spoken to, and barely spoken about Sam since the night the determined teenager had disappeared. Any time Dean or someone even mentioned the other brother, John would get a dark look on his face, filled with sadness and regret, and it was too much for Dean to deal with.
The sun was low in the sky, giving off one last blaze before going down, causing Dean to squint and shield his eyes with one hand at his forehead, gaze fixed on the main doors of the dormitory building. Then he heard an unmistakable sound, one he hadn't heard for a very, very long time; his little brother's laugh. It was a short burst, and a slight bit deeper than before, but it was definitely him.
Dean whipped his head round in the direction the sound came from, and sure enough, there was his lanky, impossibly tall brother. His eyes widened as he noted that Sam had grown at least another 3 inches from the last time they were together, and he towered above his two companions. He was talking, or rather signing very rapidly, and Dean could catch only snippets of the conversation as his brother's hands moved at a blur. He was recanting a story from a party that occurred some time previously. Two things here were remarkable to Dean; first that his brother had never looked so effervescent and alive, and second, he'd been to a party? His nerdy, shy, bookworm little bro who was embarrassed by his deaf accent, and hated talking to strangers was a social butterfly! Then Dean remembered that everyone here was deaf or hard of hearing, so there was nothing for Sam to be embarrassed about any more. He was with his people now. Dean felt a bubble of regret grow in his chest, reaching up to his throat and catching there.
Suddenly Sam cocked his head as if reacting to an unheard sound, and looked round searching for the imaginary source. It wasn't the first time Dean had witnessed his sibling do something similar, and at times he was certain the kid could hear his thoughts, or sense his presence somehow. He didn't want to question too deeply what that could mean though, and always wrote it off as the other four regular senses picking up something, rather than the tell-tale signs of some sixth sense. That just wasn't possible.
Sam's eyes scanned round, also squinting in the bright evening light, then landed on Dean there. A series of emotions crossed his features in quick succession, and Dean couldn't tell if they were good or bad ones. Sam turned to the guy and girl he was with, and said his goodbyes, and that he would see them later. With a few long, hesitant strides, Sam was right there in front of him, and for perhaps the first time in his life Dean didn't know what to say.
"Dean." Sam spoke first, hands creating the old sign name habitually.
Dean had not heard his name from his brothers lips for a long time, and it seemed he wasn't going to hear it now, as Sam kept his mouth shut, his lips a thin, tense line.
"Hey Sammy."
Sam frowned at the old, childish sign name from years ago.
"It's S A M," he finger-spelled tersely. "What you doing here, Dean?"
"Do I got to have a reason to visit my baby brother?"Dean said with a grin, hands slightly unused to forming words, but it was like riding a bike.
Sam didn't buy it. His jaw jutted out to one side as he surveyed his older brother. Dean's appearance was mostly the same; the same militant, short hair cut that their father approved of, but a slight five o'clock shadow now played across his chin. He was dressed in the same old jeans and T-shirt, and he'd picked up a new-old leather jacket somewhere along the way, making him look even more like their father.
"Dad here?" Sam asked with trepidation.
"No,"Dean tapped his forefingers against his thumb. "Just me."
Sam nodded, with slight relief. He didn't want to face John. One awkward reunion at a time.
"You going to invite me in then?"Dean asked, another grin plastered across his face.
"Ok. My room is this way," Sam strode off in front, leaving Dean trailing behind, cutting off further awkward conversation for the time being.
Sam let them into the building with his keys, and indicated that his room was up the stairs. They climbed two flights in silence, Sam's long legs taking two steps at a time.
"Jeez slow down, Gigantor!" Dean huffed to himself, taking the stairs at a jog to keep up.
They stopped outside a room with the number 20 screwed into the door, a large doorbell button hanging onto the frame by one screw. Once inside, Dean saw that the doorbell wasn't a bell at all, but was connected to a light. He pushed the button and the light flashed three times. Smart, he thought. Sam would never hear someone knocking on the door, so this was perfect. He wondered how long that had been a thing, and whether his Dad should have hooked one up.
Dean looked up to find Sam staring at him, with a judgemental look that said, "Really?" so Dean left his new light toy and stepped inside the dorm room.
It was your average boys dorm, with two single beds pushed up against each wall, a matching set of cheap drawers, one for each occupant, and two desks with chairs tucked under them. One side of the room was impossibly neat, while the other was littered with dirty socks, empty food cartons and books strewn everywhere. Dean didn't need to ask which side was his brother's, so he went straight to the perfectly made bed and perched on the end. Sam pulled the chair out from under his desk and sat down, spreading his long legs out in front of him.
"Well Sam, you could have at least cleaned up a bit,"Dean joked, resorting to humour to break the silence.
Sam just sighed.
"This is a nice room you have here. Bed, big window… who's your roommate?"Dean pressed on.
"BRADY. He's cool." Sam signed, expression unusually unreadable.
His little, not-so-little brother really wasn't warming up here, and Dean was getting uncomfortable. He ran a hand over his face nervously, forgetting that Sam could pick up on any unconscious little sign of emotion Dean showed.
"Why are you really here, Dean?" Sam questioned, squaring his brother with one of his probing looks, searching for the truth on his brother's features.
"I told you, just checking in on my little brother."
"Cut the crap, I can see right through you," Sam started signing before Dean had even finished his lie.
"Ok."Dean stood up and paced to the window, then turned back to his brother. "Dad's on a hunting trip. He hasn't been home for a few days."
"So?" Sam shrugged.
"He always checks in, but now he's not answering his cell." Dean was being stubborn, not owning up to how worried and deeply afraid he really was.
"Dean, he's probably taken his pals Jim, Jack and José with him for the ride. He'll surface soon," Sam quipped sarcastically
The boys were no stranger to their Dad taking off on a trip for weeks at a time when they were younger. He would leave them with Bobby, Pastor Jim or some other friends from the road. As they got older, John took them with him more often, telling them they needed to learn on the job. They had been exposed to way too much, far too young, but they had certainly learned a lot on the way.
"No Sammy, it's been ... different since you left. He's different. He always checks in. Always."
Sam stared at his brother, assessing, taking in what was being said. Dean had always hidden so much under a thick layer of humour and wit, but with his strong observation skills, and reliance on facial expressions, Sam had been able to cut through to the truth. Even if they didn't then talk about it, Sam knew how Dean was feeling, and for Dean it was enough that someone at least knew, no need for the touchy-feely crap. But right now, Sam didn't want to know the truth. He saw the worry under the surface of Dean's cocky grin, and didn't want to let it in. A little over two years without a word from his Dad, so why should he care now what trouble the man had gotten himself into. And yet, against his better judgement, the question played on his mind.
"How do you mean he's different?"
Dean sighed and scratched his chin, uncomfortable with the emotional stuff.
"I don't know, just different," he said exasperatedly, without signing. He turned his back to look at the view for a momentary break from Sam's prying eyes.
A moment passed before Sam stomped a foot down twice on the uncarpeted floorboards sending vibrations across the room. Dean spun round confused, only to find a pissed off stare boring through him from Sam.
"What?!" he snapped back.
"DON'T turn you back on me, Dean. It's rude!" Sam huffed.
"What's with the tap routine, Ginger?" Dean pointed at Sam's foot.
"Habit," Sam shrugged. "Not been around hearing people much for a while."
"So what, you forget how to speak then?" Dean joked, but the grimace it provoked from Sam soon wiped the smirk from his face, so he chose not to push the matter.
"Look, I've left you alone for two years. Let you do your thing, even when I really could have used your help. But this time... this time I need your help, brother."
Sam took Dean in fully now, letting his eyes notice the things he was trying to ignore. There were bags under his eyes where he had clearly missed a few night's sleep, and he was looking a good few years older than 26. Suddenly filled with compassion for his brother's suffering, Sam felt his resolve waiver just a little. Him and Dean had always been so close growing up, so being apart had been difficult at first. He had missed his big brother. But the awkward conversations in the months that followed had been harder still. He had wanted his brother to disagree with their father, and stick up for him, but it never happened. He understood in a way; Dean had always followed their Dad's every command without question, so why would now be any different? But it didn't mean he had to forgive him for that, and he could hold a grudge just as well as John ever could. He swore he wouldn't be pulled back into all of this, and nothing had changed his mind on that yet.
"What do you want ME to do? I'm out of the game, I wouldn't know where to start." Sam's face was sincere.
"Just come with me to check something out. I've got the location for the last job he was on. I need to at least go and see if there's anything there." Dean was almost pleading now. It would have been funny if it wasn't so troubling and out of character.
"No, Dean," Sam signed, emphatically. "I can't. Dad is fine, and you don't need me for this anyway, so why did you really come?"
"If…"Dean faltered. "If something has happened to Dad, I don't know if I can…"he trailed off, unable to even entertain the thoughts of what he would do if their father was hurt, or worse.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes together for a long pause. His brother showing emotion was beginning to crack his resolve.
"Where was this last job?" he asked, sighing through his nose, jaw clenched tight.
"BILLINGS,"Dean spelled out.
"Montana?!" Sam exclaimed with raised brows. "I thought as you were here it would be nearby. I can't go to MN, I have an interview on Monday." It was Wednesday now, and knowing Dean's hatred of flying, Sam was adding up how long it would take to drive there and back. Too long.
"Interview? Skip the interview,"Dean said with a shrug.
"Skip… I can't skip it, Dean. It's an interview for Law school." Dean's nonchalance about something important pissed Sam off.
"Huh. Ok well drive down with me, then you can fly back Sunday night. No problem."Dean went for the compromise. "So you're really going forward with this Lawyer thing then."
Sam frowned and shook his head with exasperation at the question. Did Dean really think he was going to get bored and quit college? Maybe that's just what he was hoping.
"Yes, as long as I don't mess up this interview, I'll be going to Pen Law on a full ride next year."
"I promise, you can get back here for Monday, even if Dad... I will make sure you get to that interview. Just please. I'm literally begging you here, I hate myself for it." Dean stopped voicing the last part, as he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.
"Fine, I'll come," Sam sighed. "But I can't leave until later. My girlfriend is getting some friends together tonight for passing m T," he signed, jaw still resolve had crumbled.
Three days. He could handle three days.
"Giiiirl friend?"Dean signed slowly, elongating the word. He didn't miss a thing.
"Yes, Dean. Don't be a jerk about it." Sam rolled his eyes.
"I'm proud, Sammy! My baby brother isn't a virgin any more. I mean you have done it with her, right?"Dean grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"What makes you think I was still a virgin before anyway?" Sam scowled back at Dean, who just stood with his mouth open, processing what his little brother has just implied.
"Meet at Union bar on campus, 7." Sam signed rapidly. "Got a study session now. Don't mess with my shit." He shot Dean a look that said 'I'm serious' then crossed the room in two longs strides, and left, leaving Dean still reeling from the comment his baby brother had made about his virginity. Touche, Sammy, he thought to himself, before kicking his feet up for a well earned nap.