TWO

Lansing, Ohio

January 15th, 2009

Dean Winchester was pissed and his brother, Sam, knew it. Dean hadn't spoken two words to Sam since they'd left the motel that morning. Sam wasn't sure what Dean was so angry about so it made the effort of bridging the problem that much more difficult.

Normally, silence was golden, so rare in their world that Sam usually reveled in the time he could enjoy the peace and quiet. This was not one of those times. The Impala's speakers were silent, unnaturally so considering Dean's penchant for blaring classic rock music at an insane decibel. It made the car ride uncomfortable. Sam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, rethinking his approach.

What the heck did I do now? he thought desperately.

He thought back on the last several days, trying to pinpoint a moment where he had said or done something to incur such a unique wrath. Sam had been vigilant about not using the abilities he had developed from the demon blood coursing through his veins courtesy of Azazel, the yellow-eyed demon who had killed both his mother when he was an infant, and his father only a few years ago. He couldn't see how Dean could still be upset about them.

Although Sam knew he was only using his powers to do good, Dean had been appalled and disgusted when he'd seen Sam using them. Dean hated everything connected with Azazel. Even more so when their father, John, in an attempt to save a dying Dean, had given his soul to the demon in exchange for Dean's life.

Dean hadn't taken the exchange well, which Sam could understand, but didn't completely agree with. Sam needed his brother more than he needed John and knew that, if he'd been asked his opinion, there would have been no contest. Dean, on the other hand, felt that his father had made a massive mistake. Dean had let the anger he felt over his father's trade build up over time, closing himself off from everyone around him, including Sam.

It had been hard for Sam to watch Dean drown in self doubt and pain. Especially when it was so hard for Sam to come to terms with their father's death himself. Part of him always felt like he was the one Dean should have been angry with.

Azazel had been after Sam when their mother, Mary, had walked in on the ritual that had given Sam his freaky powers. The pursuit of Mary's killer had taken control over John Winchester, sending him on an uncompromising hunt. The exchange of souls could be seen as Sam's fault as well since the yellow-eyed demon would not have been involved in their lives had he not wanted Sam.

The demon's pursuit of Sam had caused even more damage to their family even after John's death. Sam, having been picked by Azazel as one of several kids born to lead the army of demons he was going to free from hell, was was pitted against a group of these kids in an isolated town. They were told that whomever came out alive was the winner, Yellow-eyes promising rewards beyond their wildest dreams.

Sam had been killed, murdered at the hands of a kid named Jake Talley, who had believed the demon when it told him there could be only one survivor. Dean, in a fit of absolute desperation, had sold his soul to a crossroads demon in order to bring Sam back. So I guess you could say I've killed everyone in my family, Sam thought bitterly.

Dean had gone to hell for Sam; had spent four months in the pit, being tortured and tormented. Only recently had Sam found out any details of Dean's time down there. Time moved differently for his brother while he was in hell and, after many years of being in the pit, Dean had made a deal with Alastair, the demon in charge. He had been freed of the torture in return for torturing other souls in his place.

That knowledge-the guilt of it-ate at Dean. Sam himself could barely look at his brother for days afterward without feeling sick to his stomach. But he hadn't been sick with Dean. His brother had made a choice that Sam could condone, that he probably would have made himself had he been in the same position. Dean had made it a long time before he couldn't take the torture, longer than a lot of people. What made Sam sick was that hehad been the reason for his brother's damnation, his brother's endless pain and despair.

It was hard for Sam to think about. It was part of the reason Sam had promised Dean he wouldn't use his abilities anymore, even though he'd been getting better at them. Sam had been using his powers to send demons back to hell, developing them with help from Ruby, a demon whom they had met in Dean's final year. Ruby seemed to be on the side of good, claiming to remember what it was like to be human as her reason why she worked against her fellow demons.

Even though he had been using the demon-given abilities for good, because it had freaked Dean out so much, Sam stopped to make his brother comfortable, to make Dean happy. So far, he'd been pretty good with his promise, only slipping once when, in a desperate situation against a demon who'd gotten the upper hand on Sam, he had resorted to those powers and tried to exercise the demon. Seeing the look of horror and disgust on Dean's face had crushed Sam. And the angels weren't too happy about Sam's powers either.

Sam still had a little trouble wrapping his head around that idea. He'd always believed that there had to be something out there, a counterbalance to all the evil they fought. Believed even after Dean and John had made valid arguments against the presence of angels and God. Sam had been forced to begin to doubt it when Dean died; fighting with the responsibility of his brother's death had made Sam begin to doubt a lot of things. But then Dean came back, alive and whole, and Sam had the pleasure of telling Dean "I told you so", although he'd never actually gotten to say the words out loud.

An angel, Castiel, had been the one who'd pulled Dean from the pit under orders from God. Dean was supposed to be the chosen one, supposed to stop Lilith from raising Lucifer and bringing hell upon Earth. It always impressed Sam when Castiel would appear. He was always in awe despite the messages the angels sometimes brought.

Sam sighed and opened his laptop. If he had to break the awkward silence between him and Dean than he might as well do it with something useful, like a hunting opportunity. He scanned over some documents he had saved on his laptop and opened the incomplete digital copy of their dad's journal. Sam had been painfully copying the information into a more accessible format on his computer for some time now. It had been slow, inhibited mostly because Sam constantly had difficulty translating their father's erratic writings. Sam had also found that he needed to add to some of the entries, fixing the incomplete ones.

Reading over a few notes he had put together about a string of murders in and around Philadelphia, Sam took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and began to explain the job. "So, there might be something of interest in Honey Brook, Pennsylvania. There have been two 'occult-related' murders according to local police.

"The newspapers say Janet Hardy and Robert Kligman were found stabbed to death in their homes. Both bodies were found on top of pentagrams. But who knows, without seeing the photos, what exactly was drawn on the floor." Sam paused, waiting for Dean to comment.

"Huh," Dean grunted.

"So I was thinking we could head out there and check it out. I'd really like to see what was drawn on the floor. Maybe get some more details to pin-point the ritual being used."

"Huh," Dean grunted again.

"It couldn't hurt to take a look. We've gone for less." When his brother didn't answer, Sam sighed. It looks like I'm going to have to be direct and ask him what's wrong, Sam thought sadly. He didn't know what to expect from his brother.

"What's going on with you, man?" There was no response. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean turned to look at his brother for the first time in hours. He still had a faraway look to his eyes, like he had been deep in thought. Sam began to feel guilty. Maybe his mood really has nothing to do with me, Sam thought with sudden relief.

"Are you okay? I mean, you haven't said one word since we left the motel. You seem to be somewhere…far off. Did you want to..."

"No Dr. Phil moments, Sam. I'm fine." Seeing Sam's look of disbelief, Dean added, "Really."

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't press it. He knew his brother would talk to him if he wanted to. "So what do you think about Honey Brook?"

Dean turned his eyes back to the road ahead and shrugged. "Sounds like fun. What is it?"

"A possible job? Honey Brook, Pennsylvania? I just spent the last five minutes giving you the details?"

"Right, right. Sorry. I guess I just tuned you out," Dean said with a sly smile. He reached over and twisted a knob on the stereo. A disc jockey's voice blasted out of the speakers, blabbering about some stupid celebrity news. Dean started pressing buttons, trying to find a song he liked.

Finally, after scanning through all the stations the Impala picked up, he groaned and pushed in Night Ranger's "Dawn Patrol" into the tape deck. "Sing Me Away" began to play and a stupid half-grin spread across Dean's face. Apparently whatever had been bugging him was pushed from his mind, for now.

"So tell me again - what's going on in Honey Brook?"

Sam reached over and turned the radio's volume down until it was just background noise and began giving his brother the details he had managed to dig up online again. After going through what little information he had been able to obtain, Sam paused to hear his brother's thoughts.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think it sounds like a whack job trying to get his jollies off on killing poor people and using the occult as his calling card, but as you said..." Dean paused and as if to prove he had heard Sam earlier, added, "We've gone for less."

Shaking his head, Sam pulled up a map on his laptop and began planning the best route to take. "Just stay on I-70 East for now. When we get into Pennsylvania, we can jump on I-76 East." Closing the computer, Sam leaned his head back against the seat, figuring he might as well get some shut eye. He hadn't been sleeping well, mainly because of Dean. Every time he closed his eyes, Sam would dream of his brother in the pit.

When Dean first went to Hell, Sam had had nightmares about what was happening to Dean; about the tortures he could only imagine being inflicted on his brother. They had all but gone away once Dean returned, though. Now that Sam knew more of what had actually happened to him in the pit, the nightmares had returned but in more vivid detail.

Lately, Sam had been dreaming of his brother in a different aspect; Dean with black eyes - demon eyes - torturing other souls in Hell. Sam knew it was his conscience creating these dreams, being fed by the guilt he felt even when he was awake, but it didn't make the nightmares any more bearable. The low rumble of the Impala's engine was relaxing and soon Sam's eyes began to droop, heavy with sleep. Minutes later, Sam was fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady, his dreams light for the time being.