AN: Sequel to "The New Big Brother."

Please read the AN from the Prologue if you haven't already.

Enjoy and review. Thanks :)

You're Not Alone

– – Chapter One – –

Never to Return

Dean twirled the spoon slowly through his soup. It had been sitting in front of him for the past ten minutes and he hadn't eaten a drop. Sam sat across from him, chewing slowly on his cheeseburger and French fries, and Dean noticed his brother staring at him as they sat in silence. Dean lifted his head to look at Sam, and Sam turned his gaze quickly back toward his burger and chewed faster. This had been going on ever since they'd gotten their food, and even before then, when Dean could feel Sam's eyes boring a hole into his head as he fiddled aimlessly with his silverware.

Finally, Dean sighed, dropping the spoon loudly into his bowl and taking a large swig of his water, the only thing Sam would let him drink.

"Sam, quit staring at me, okay? I told you, I'm fine," he said, putting his glass down harder than was necessary and sloshing water onto the table. He cursed quietly and proceeded to clean it up with his napkin.

Sam put his burger down and looked back at him again. "You haven't touched your food. Usually I have to remind you to actually chew it. And come on, Dean…soup? You've never eaten soup in your life. I told you to get whatever you want."

"Yeah, and I wanted soup. What, is that a crime now?" Dean asked loudly.

Sam looked taken aback at Dean's tone. "No," he said quietly, turning his gaze back toward his burger, feeling slightly hurt. "I just…I don't know. You haven't been yourself lately." Sam raised his head back up to Dean. "I'm just…I'm worried about you," he admitted, his eyes not leaving his brother's.

"Don't be," Dean said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. He turned his gaze back to his soup, continuing to stir it aimlessly. "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, Dean, but you're not. You haven't been eating recently-"

"Yeah, well, dying has a funny way of making a person lose their appetite."

Dean felt horrible the second the words left his mouth, and he kicked himself mentally. Why didn't he ever think before he talked?

He looked up at Sam slowly, and when he saw the hurt in his brother's eyes, Dean swore under his breath, wishing like hell that he could just take back the words. "Sam-"

"Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore, either. I'll be in the car," he said angrily, but Dean could still see that look of hurt. Sam stood up and yanked his coat off the bench. "Come out whenever you're done pretending to be fine."

And with that, Sam threw on his coat and stalked out of the diner. Dean watched his retreating back, and when the door closed behind him, Dean put his head in his hands and stared at the table.

Sometimes, he really hated himself.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Dean had paid for their food, he had left the diner and gone back to the car to find Sam staring silently out the window, lost in thought. Dean had kicked himself again as he slowly climbed into the car, wincing slightly as his chest jarred from the motion, but Sam hadn't noticed. When he was buckled in, Sam had started the car and continued driving. They had sat in silence for a long time, Sam's gaze never leaving the road. Dean had alternated between looking at the trees outside his window and at his brother sitting stony faced next to him. Finally, Dean had drifted off to sleep again, the lack of food and a feeling of self-loathing making him feel suddenly exhausted.

He had woken up an hour later from the same nightmare that had plagued him nearly every time he had gone to sleep for the past two weeks. He had jerked awake with a scream on his lips, panting slightly, the sound of his father telling him he could never love him ringing loudly in his ears. He had noticed Sam staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but when Dean had turned to him, Sam had turned his gaze back to the road, maintaining the awkward silence between them.

And now Dean was sitting back in his seat and staring out the window, watching the lack of scenery roll by outside, unwillingly reminiscing over his dream yet again.

"What could you possibly give this family? You're useless. We don't need you now and we never will. Your brother left you. He didn't care. He didn't really need you…I could never love you…Never love you…Never love you."

Dean was pulled out of his reverie when his brother suddenly broke the silence in the car.

"Dean."

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, turning to him.

"We're here," he said, his gaze never leaving the road.

Dean frowned and looked out the window, and he saw a small sign pass by:

Chelsea township, Kansas; Population: 190.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed softly. He hadn't realized they were so close.

"I'm gonna pull over and check the map," Sam said, and he was about to turn the car off the road when Dean stopped him.

"Turn right at the first intersection," he said, his voice and face devoid of emotion. He saw Sam gaze at him in confusion, and Dean closed his eyes again. He didn't understand why he remembered the way there so vividly, but he did. Everything about this place looked achingly familiar, and Dean suddenly wanted more than anything to turn around and leave and never come back here. Sam took the right, and Dean gazed out his window and tried hard to calm the feeling of sadness he felt that was suddenly threatening to drown him. As he gave Sam directions he didn't know he knew, he saw places he didn't know he remembered. Places he had visited with his mother, his father…his little baby brother.

Suddenly, he remembered things he never thought he could.

He remembered his mom buying a pretty red dress at that small clothing store on this corner, a dress some grandmotherly woman had sewn herself with her arthritic hands. His mother had fallen in love with it the minute she'd put it on, and when she'd come out of the dressing room, his father had twirled her around in a circle while she laughed happily, and Dean had smiled at how pretty and happy his mommy looked. She had asked him what he thought, and Dean had said she looked "beautiful," though it had come out sounding like "bootyful," and his mom had smiled and lifted him up, hugging him and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before setting him down and buying the dress.

He remembered eating lunch in the little diner on that street, spitting his soup out all over the table when his daddy had attempted to talk around a mouth full of fries. They had all laughed as his mom cleaned the spilt soup off of the table and Dean's chin.

He remembered watching a man make him an ice cream soda in that little ice cream shop that was made over in a 50's theme. He remembered giggling happily as he spun around on his red vinyl stool, making himself so dizzy that he would have fallen off if his daddy hadn't been there to catch him. His mother had looked up from her place at a table, where she was holding little baby Sammy close and feeding him his bottle, and she had asked him if he wanted to learn how to feed his brother. Dean had been afraid at first, but she had told him he would be fine, and he believed everything his mommy told him, so he held Sam and fed him his bottle, and he had smiled happily as Sam wrapped his tiny hands around Dean's fingers, sucking slowly on the bottle and looking up at Dean quietly.

Dean pulled himself out of his thoughts when Sam asked him which way to go, and he told him to turn left. This place held so many happy memories. But the memories didn't make him happy anymore like they should have. They made him feel empty…hollow. He regretted the fact that Sam didn't have any happy memories like this, and yet at the same time he envied him. Because Sam would never have to know just how happy they had been. He would never have to know the feeling of having a happy childhood yanked suddenly and harshly away from him in a night of fire and suffocating smoke and tears. Sam couldn't remember their mother, and as much as Dean loved his mom, or what he could remember of her, sometimes he wished he couldn't remember her, either.

Because then it wouldn't hurt so much.

And Dad…Dad….

Suddenly, Dean felt Sam's eyes on him again, and he turned to find Sam watching him quietly, stopped at a red light. Sam turned away when their eyes met, and Dean wanted to make amends for what he had said to him before, but he didn't know how. He said the only thing he could think of.

"I'm okay, Sammy," he said quietly, looking at his brother, and when Sam turned back to him, Dean gave him a small smile, trying to tell him without words how sorry he was.

Sam smiled back at him, and Dean knew that he understood. The light turned green and Sam turned back to the front, continuing to drive.

"Yeah, I know," Sam said, and Dean noticed the sadness in his voice. He would accept it, but he still knew it was a lie. Dean didn't know what to do for him, so they fell back into silence, Dean giving his brother occasional directions.

And finally, sooner than either of them would have liked, they saw the sign for Chelsea Cemetery, and they were driving under it and through the iron gates, and Dean felt his heart constrict at the though of what lay ahead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two brothers stood in silence in front of their father's grave, neither really able to grasp the fact that their father's name was on a temporary plaque above freshly dug earth. That their father's body lay a mere six feet below them. That their father was really gone. Neither of them knew what to say, how to act, and so they just stood in silence and stared.

Dean pulled his jacket closer to his body, shivering slightly even though there was no wind and the sun was shining brightly. Too brightly. How dare the sun shine so bright when things were so screwed up? When their father was gone?

"Dean," Sam said quietly, and Dean turned to his brother and felt his heart break at the broken, lost look on his little brother's face.

"Yeah?" he asked, and he was surprised at how strong he could make his voice sound when everything hurt so much.

"I…do you think…Dad knew…how sorry I was? For…leaving him the way I did? Do you think he knew how much I…." Dean watched Sam struggle to say what he wanted to say, and he tried hard to remain strong for his brother. He saw a few tears escape Sam's closed eyes, and Dean fought his own emotions, maintaining his front.

"Do you think he knew how much I loved him?" he asked so quietly that Dean could barely hear him.

Dean felt his heart twist inside his chest at the note of despair and regret in Sam's voice, and he felt guilty for obsessing over his own feelings of doubt and sadness.

He remained strong for his brother.

"Of course he did, Sam," he said as vehemently as possible.

Sam turned to him. "How can you be sure?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse from the pain and the tears building up in him.

Sam turned his gaze back to the ground.

Dean didn't know how he knew. It was just one of those things you know to be true. So Dean did his best to explain it.

"You know, after you left, Dad was pretty upset. He stormed around the house for about a week. He didn't go on a single hunt. He just kind of…sat around, wallowing in his anger. He went out drinking a couple nights. Stumbled in one morning around 5 am and nearly woke up the neighbors throwing stuff around the living room. I didn't know what to do for him. I didn't really know what to do for myself."

Dean paused. He wasn't the issue right now. Sam was.

"One night he went out and he didn't come back. I waited up for him all night, called him a few times. I was worried sick. Finally he wandered into the house around eight in the morning, sober as could be, and he told me he knew it was his fault that you left. He never blamed you for leaving, Sam. He blamed himself. He felt bad about not giving you a chance to do what you wanted, for getting mad at you when you left. He never wanted to keep you from doing what you wanted, Sam. He just…he just wanted to keep you safe. Because he loved you."

Sam turned his head back up to Dean, and Dean watched as a few tears escaped his brother's eyes.

"He loved you, Sam. More than anything. He loved you."

Dean looked back at the ground, and his father's voice echoed in his head unwillingly.

I could never love you.

Dean heard Sam sigh next to him, and he looked back toward his brother, who was once again gazing at the ground.

Finally, Sam looked up and him and smiled softly.

"Thanks," he said, and Dean returned the smile before gazing back down at the ground.

"He loved you," Dean whispered, his heart clenching.

Dean could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, and he did his best to ignore the penetrating stare. He knew Sam was waiting for him to say something, to confess something to him, to share with him how Dad's death was affecting him. But Dean couldn't talk about it. He couldn't tell Sam what was bothering him. That he wasn't sure his father had ever really needed him.

That he wasn't sure his father loved him.

Finally, Sam let it go, and he turned to look at the small white stone that served as their mother's memorial. He watched Sam sigh and reach out to gently run his hand along the top of it, and Dean looked away.

"I'll be in the car," Sam said quietly. "Whenever you're ready."

Dean nodded, and when Sam reached out a hand to pat him gently on the shoulder, Dean didn't protest. Sam smiled sadly at him and headed back toward the car.

When Dean heard the door of the car open and close back up on the road, he turned toward his mother's memorial, gazing at the inscription. Loving mother and wife. Dean copied what Sam had done moments before, running his hand slowly along the top, reading the words over and over to himself.

"I miss you, Mom," he said quietly. He let go and turned toward his father's grave. There was no tombstone. Just a simple plaque that said "John Winchester" and gave the years of his birth and death. Dean wrapped his arms around his chest in an unconscious attempt to keep out the world around him. He carefully avoided the spots that still ached from when the demon had tried to kill him back in the cabin, when his father…no, not his father – the demon, right? – had told him that he could never love him.

Dean felt tears rise in his eyes, and he wanted more than anything for his father to come back and tell him that he needed him; that he loved him; that he had always loved him and he always would.

"I love you, Dad."

And there was no answer.

There was no one around to hear him. No one around to see him.

And because there was no one around to see him, he let a few tears fall slowly down his cheeks before he reached up and swiped them away angrily. He let out a deep breath and pulled himself together. He needed to be strong. That's what his father had always told him. To be a good soldier, you had to be strong. Crying was a sign of weakness, and Dean wasn't weak.

He was just…alone.

Just a little bit broken.

Dean looked toward his mother's memorial and the place where his father's body lay once more, and then he turned his back on them and vowed never to return. He was glad he had come to say goodbye. But it hurt too much, more than Dean would ever admit to anyone. And in that moment, Dean decided that it would be easier if he tried to put them behind him, tried to forget about them.

No matter how much more alone it would make him feel.

As he opened the door to the car, looking at anything but the place he had vowed to never come back to, he realized that there was one more place he needed to go if he wanted to put the past behind him. So when Sam asked him if he wanted to head out and get the truck out of impound, Dean said that he wanted to make a stop first.

Sam pulled the car out of the cemetery, looking in the rearview mirror once more, where Dean knew he could probably just make out the place where their father's body lay buried and where the memory of their mother was put to rest.

Dean kept his eyes fixed ahead, and when Sam asked him where he wanted to go, Dean said:

"El Dorado State Park."

TBC...