Endless Road to Rediscover

Part 1: The Woman in White

Chapter 3: A Very Nice Title

Sam woke up feeling disoriented and slightly feverish. He couldn't remember what had happened last, blinking sluggishly it came back to him. He sprung up, eyes wide again. The lady, jumping from the bridge but not, and then the car running them down when no one was in it. He frowned in confusion, Dean had said ghosts. Where was Dean, anyway?

It had grown dark, the entire day apparently having passed with him asleep. Sitting up from where he was, he tried to blink away the fog in his head. He managed well enough, upright and eyes adjusting. Dean wasn't there. Sam saw a note on the dash and grabbed it. There was an address. Next to the note were the keys to the car and what Sam assumed was a motel room. He frowned again, coughing wetly, his chest aching painfully.

Sam wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, Dean hadn't told him anything. He was still muddy and still slightly cold from the damp clothes he was in. Getting out of the car, he took the motel key and the car keys, locking the car. Hesitantly he headed for the motel room, head swinging back and forth. No one was there though.

The room ended up being empty. It didn't even look like Dean had gone inside. Sam frowned, he felt sick and he was terrified about what to do next. Dean wouldn't just leave him, would he? Sam didn't know Dean, really. But the ghost and the bridge? Sam shook his head in confusion. What he'd seen was real.

The only other thing he had was the address. Pulling out one of the many maps in the car he managed to locate Jericho and then the road. He squinted as he looked off to the side, figuring out where he was at. He'd driven a car, once. It hadn't been a pleasant experience. But Dean had said monsters were dangerous, what if Dean had been taken by that crazy ghost lady?

Dean may have claimed that he wasn't anybody to him, but Sam wanted to at least prove that he was worth something. That Sam was worth keeping. Gnawing on his lip as his stomach tumbled in agitation, Sam made up his fevered mind. He slid the key into the ignition, anxiety filling him as the car roared to life. He levered the bench seat as far forward as possible and then put the car into drive.

The drive was terrifying, honestly. Sam kept stopping to look at the map and his slow pace seemed to agonize the other drivers who either honked and flipped him off as they drove around or sped by as quickly as they could. The late hour though meant that Sam only had to deal with a few other cars. He was a mile from the address when a woman appeared suddenly in the road. Sam stomped on the brakes, giving himself whiplash.

Blinking his vision back into focus Sam looked around in confusion when he heard the shrill tones of a phone ringing. Fumbling awkwardly with the glove compartment, Sam managed to get it open and grabbed the phone. He flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Sam? This is Dean. Where are you?"

Dean had been detained at the police station for a while, the officer glaring him down and accusing him of the many disappearances in the town. When he'd thrown down John's journal, Dean had stilled, body stiffening as he thought about the reasons why his father would leave behind one of the most precious items he owned. He left me behind though, Dean thought bitterly.

The man had opened the journal to the back and pointed at a page which had been previously empty. Dean's name was circled along with coordinates. The man continued to ply him about the journal and where he had dumped the bodies or what he had done with the missing men. At some point the man stepped out, cuffing him to the table, saying something to try to sound like a hard ass cop, stew in his own juices kind of statement. This gave Dean enough time to pick the lock and slip out the window.

It was close to the hotel and Dean jogged his way there to find Sam and the Impala gone. He'd cursed and then headed to the nearest pay phone available. Thank God, Sam had answered, breathing labored and voice tinged in slightly delirious confusion. Dean knew the sounds of sickness and felt guilt well in his stomach for neglecting Sam after the impromptu dunk in the river.

"Sam, where are you?"

"Uh, I don't know. I-the address?" Sam was stuttering.

"Well, stay where you are, I'm coming to-"

Dean stopped as he heard a sharp gasp and Sam crying out.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't respond and Dean could hear faintly the tones of one Constance Welch in the background. Sam wasn't old enough to be involved with anyone, but they had been poking at the ghost and in nearly every case involving spirits, Dean found that ghosts always poked back.

"Sam?!" Dean yelled, the line then went dead.

Dean slammed the phone back onto receiver and ran from the pay phone. The first car he laid eyes on he broke into, taking all of five minutes to have it hot wired. He was maybe a few minutes from the house, it being just a few miles outside of town. He sped toward the destination, hoping beyond hope that the kid that he had taken in would be alright.

Sam meanwhile had seen the figure of Constance Welch appear in the passenger seat, haunting eyes set on him. The car had been stopped, idling until Constance revved the engine and forced the car to go speeding down the road. Sam tried to press the brakes and steer but it was pointless.

"I can never go home." Constance whispered, voice grating on Sam's ears.

The car came to a jarring halt in front of an old, run down house. Then Constance was on top of Sam, one hand on his chest and the other on his head.

"I can never go home." She repeated.

Sam felt water fill his lungs and he choked, spewing out water. Constance had drowned her children, apparently Sam was similar enough. Sam tried to claw at the hands trapping him, breath gone. The hand on his chest pierced him making him scream past the water, sound coming out as a strange gargle. His vision was beginning to fade and everything was becoming dull and faraway.

Right before Sam slipped from consciousness there was the sharp retort of a gun and the choking water was gone and the pressure on his chest was released. Gasping for air, Sam blinked his vision back. But Constance was back, grief etched on her face and message the same.

Terror seized Sam, the idea of choking once again made him desperately slam on the gas, sending the black Chevy careening into the house. The impact hit and Sam fell into the blissful embrace of unconsciousness.

Dean was sure he wouldn't get there in time, especially when he threw the stolen car in park and saw Constance straddling a motionless Sam in the driver's seat of the Impala. It had taken a moment to plug the bitch with a salt round, the solution temporary but hopefully enough to save Sam's life.

Constance had reappeared and then the last thing Dean expected had happened, Sam had sent his baby crashing into a friggin' house. Anger swam through him but worry was more prominent. He raced inside to see Sam slumped against the steering wheel. He made it a few steps before Constance was sending a table sliding across the floor to trap him against the wall.

The table was held in place and despite Dean's efforts he couldn't make it budge. Constance began to approach him and Dean was pretty sure he was screwed. And then, there was the whispering of other spirits; her children.

Watching the end of a violent spirit's life was always strangely settling in a sad melancholic way. People who had brought their struggles from life to death were finally being given the ability to rest. Dean found it satisfying in a way that was different from saving a person, it was more than just preserving the breath of a person it was giving a person back their life and letting them have hard earned peace.

Pushing the desk away, Dean ran toward the car. Seeing the pale, lifeless form of Sam had him assuming the worst. He gently checked the kid over, relieved that he was alive and worried about the heat emanating from his head. There were several puncture wounds from where Constance had stabbed Sam with her nails, they were just flesh wounds though. The awful sound of his breathing had Dean thinking bronchitis at least, possibly pneumonia. Dean cursed, wrapping the kid in a blanket from the trunk and setting him out on the back seat. This was his fault, he had been so wrapped up in the hunt and in finding his dad that he had basically neglected the kid who he was the guardian of.

His dad expected him to train and teach the kid and he was going to get him killed within the first few days of having him around.

Staying in Jericho wasn't a viable option and staying in any of the local small towns would be risking whatever APB had been put out on him after his stint with the Jericho police. That meant he was headed for Modesto, getting a crap room once he was there.

When they arrived, Sam was still unconscious and his fever had risen. Dean lifted the kid up bridal style, gangly fourteen year old heavy and difficult to manage, and then brought him over to the room he had checked out. It wasn't great, but they never were. He carefully arranged him on the bed and headed back out to the trunk to gather the med kit and other things they would need. He still had some strong prescription drugs from his last run of drugs with false names and orders.

Dean stripped Sam down to his boxers and managed to coax medicine into the delirious boy, before he began working on bringing Sam's temperature down.

At some point Sam was talking, glazed eyes opening to stare pleadingly at Dean.

"Please," he said hoarsely, "M'sorry."

Dean replaced the cloth on Sam's forehead. A weak hand gripped his wrist and hazel eyes stared painfully at him.

"M'srry, don' le've."

Dean's jaw tightened and he gently placed the hand next to Sam's side.

"Please." Sam said, eyes watering.

"B' better." Sam promised, tears falling.

Dean found himself brushing Sam's bangs back from his forehead and words falling from his mouth which surprised himself because of their honesty.

"I won't leave you, Sam."

The hazel eyes stared intensely for a moment, measuring Dean's statement, and then Sam relaxed, trust and relief entering his gaze. It loosened something in Dean's chest, making a warm feeling grow. Sam's lids slipped shut and his breathing eased slightly as he fell asleep. Dean brushed another hand through Sam's hair.

"I won't leave you." Dean whispered.

Thank you to all who have reviewed, favorited, followed, or just read! Your support means the world to me! I will soon have the next episode done, which will be Wendigo, I don't think I will cover every episode (Unless you all demand it!) but will try to hit the ones most critical to the plot.