:) thank you all again for the wonderful reviews, i am so so glad you like it, and i am glad the mystery still has everyone guessing. dont worry, i wont keep you in the dark for too long. this chapter got away from my, so it is a little longer. also, for all those who have not been able to see the new episodes, (i went to school in Ireland so i know what you are going through) i will try my best to leave my stories spoiler free. all the episodes have been amazing so far, especially No Exit, that i would hate to ruin it for anyone.

ok, that is enought from me. enjoy the chapter. :)

D: this is just for fun, no money will be made.

SOMETHING LOST

Chapter 6

The car ride had been long and quiet, the past six hours blurring by the brothers like the landscape beyond the windows. Everything was different, everything had shifted, and Sam could feel it. A part of him wished that he had never told Dean of the note, that they had just found each other and moved on, while the other part of him wished he had told his brother right off the bat. Either way, both halves of his mind were completely against the path the young man had actually chosen, which, in retrospect, really wasn't fair. He really, honestly, did not think that his brother would react the way that he had, that he would have shut out Sam entirely, that anger and hurt could overwhelm him so completely.

The silence within the car was deafening, pushing down on the younger Winchester's conscience as he drove, barreling over all of his own emotions until all he felt was his brother's sadness. There was something about this person and this place that Dean had locked away a long time ago, something that occupied a place in his mind and heart that the older man never let the outside world see, and Sam wasn't too sure he wanted to witness his brother's hidden memories first hand.

No, the look on his big brother's face when he told him of the note was enough. It was a look of absolute betrayal, like Sam had purposefully hidden the meaning of life from him. His eyes were accusing and lost, his breathing heavy and forced, and his voice, so unlike the voice Sam was used to hearing. It was hollow yet still somehow full of hope, as though something he had been waiting to hear finally reached his longing ears.

But the anger, the hurt, that was still evident in the single word he spoke, the only thing that told Sam of the importance of the situation. 'Drive.' And that had been five hours and fifty minutes ago. And so, Sam drove along the empty highway, passing by all they had seen not even a full day before as they made their way back to Valley, Wyoming.

"Dean?" Sam began tentatively, sparing a glance at the quiet man. His head was leaning against the window once again, just like it had been the entire drive to Winchester, just as it had been for the last six hours. The younger man could see the depth in his eyes, see his soul through the moss green orbs. He was cracking, splintering, and falling, and he had been for well over two years. But suddenly, ever since the note, something in those eyes had changed, something in his demeanor had lightened. He look both expectant and afraid, eager, and shy. And Sam wanted to know why.

"Just drive, Sammy." Dean answered, his voice flat and empty, his head never leaving the window, eyes still searching the landscape.

"I'm sorry."

"A little half-assed, wouldn't you say?"

"Look, man, I didn't know you would take this so hard."

"Sure."

"Why are you being just a jerk about it? I mean, it's just a note."

"Just shut up and drive." Dean didn't really want to talk to Sam at that moment, hell, if he could have had it his way he wouldn't have talked to anyone. His mind was so full that he thought it might explode as all the events of the past few days suddenly came bearing down on him. He couldn't believe his brother had failed to tell him of the note, had kept something so important to himself. He felt betrayed, pushed aside, unneeded. And now, worst of all, was that fact that Sam was pretending he couldn't remember someone who had nearly changed Dean's life. That his little brother had become so focused on his own world, on his own wants and needs that he had pushed something so meaningful from his mind. After all, it was this place that had made Sam want a normal life to begin with.

"What the hell's wrong with you? Why the hell are we even looking for this 'K' person? To say thank you?"

"You know, I'm really not in the mood for your crap right now."

"What crap? Dean, you look like some one just kicked a puppy."

"Look, you can mumble on over there like a little prick, but don't expect me to chime in."

"Dean!"

"What?"

"I said I was sorry. I don't know what else you want from me."

"Stop playing dumb."

"How the hell am I playing dumb?"

"You know."

"No, Dean, I don't."

"Yes, you do. You're so quick to justify your own point of view, so determined to make your own choices seem like the right ones. Our lives weren't that bad, Sammy, we had good memories. But no, the only things you care about are the bad times, the mistakes, anything that makes your decision to run away seemed justified. Hell, you even forgot me for a few years, too. So don't sit there and say you're sorry when there's something here that I want, something I might be able to find. I've given up everything for this family, every choice I ever had was made for me. Why are you pretending you don't remember? So you can feel better about ignoring it all, feel better about leaving everything behind?"

"Dean, I didn't forget you."

"Yeah, sure."

"I didn't."

"Sam I didn't even get so much as a phone call after you left, I didn't hear your voice for two years, so don't tell me you didn't forget me, that you didn't over look me."

"Dean, there was just so much going on."

"Sure, Sammy."

"I didn't forget you, and I didn't forget anything about growing up."

"What about Valley?"

"I've never been here before."

"Yes you have."

"Well I seriously don't remember."

"You know what, you're right, you don't remember, so to hell with it. This is my life, not yours so just forget it."

"No. You can't just dump crap on me like that. You can't blame me for something I have no control over. I don't know this place. I don't know this person." Sam yelled, waving the note towards Dean as he kept his eyes focused on the road before them. "And I didn't run away, I went to school. It's not my fault you never stood up to Dad. You had choices, Dean, you were just too much of a daddy's boy to make them."

"Stop the car, let me out."

"Why?"

"Just let me out, I'll hitch a ride, just, leave me alone and go on your merry way."

"Dean?" Sam couldn't think of anything else to say, he had never seen his brother so mad, so hurt, so beside himself with raw emotion. Hell, he had just told him to take his beloved car and leave.

"No, Sam. I'm tired of defending my life to you. You think it was easy living up to Dad's expectations, to be the perfect little solider when I was nine years old? Hell, I wasn't even his son anymore. I tried to break away, I tried to have my own life, I tried to have it for both of us. And you wanna know what I lost, you wanna know what I sacrificed? This!" He shouted, motioning to the countryside flying past the windows, the small city of Valley coming into view over a ridge. "This is what I lost." He stated again, his voice breaking. "I tried, Sammy. And the least you could do is try to remember."

Sam just stared at his brother, but at that moment the man sitting beside him was more of a stranger. He had never really thought about what his brother had given up, what he had left behind, turned his back on for the sake of his family. He had always seen the older man as the perfect son, the born hunter, the eternal wanderer. Dean was the open road, he was the big sky, the definition of a hunter. But, he was also human. And that was something Sam had never really seen until that moment. And he suddenly found himself taking in the town before him with new interest, seeing the buildings around him like old forgotten friends, familiar faces that his mind could simply not place. He knew that he should know that place, every fiber of his being had been telling him that for days, but he just couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried.

"Turn up here." Dean stated evenly as they entered the town. The place looked like it had fallen off the map long ago, the paint of the buildings dulling and chipping, grass short and dried, yet still carefully cut. It was a nice place, though it had obviously passed its prime, the shop windows small and dusty, the streets narrow and winding. All in all, it was a quaint and cozy little town, and Sam could feel himself warming to it.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere. Bare left up ahead, then make the second left."

"I really am sorry, you know."

"Yeah. Just follow this road, make the first right after the creek."

Sam let out a long sigh, following the directions his brother had memorized who knows how long ago. When had everything spiraled so far out of control? They had come to Wyoming for a simple salt and burn, end of story, so how had it come to this? He had never seen his brother look so travel worn, so tired, and it was unnerving. Dean had always been his hero, always been so big and strong, that Sam had utterly failed to notice just how tired and distant he had become. But then, so much of their lives had changed, so many secrets had been revealed, so many foundations shaken, that there was no way that they wouldn't falter.

Dean had built his life on what he thought he understood, what he believed to be true. He had thought that his father never made mistakes, that he would win against the darkness every time, and then watched the man stumble more then either son thought he could. He had believed in the righteousness of what they were doing, destroying the supernatural, and then he met beings that did not kill. And now, here, in this small town, was something that had always held a very special part of his brother's mind, and Sam was terrified. Things would be different, things were always different, and he wasn't sure his brother could handle that.

"Just follow this road, about a mile."

Sam did as he was told, the dusty dirt road grinding beneath the impala's tires, filling the early summer air with a light brown haze. The fields, the forests, the small river, the lonely little road, it all jumped back into the younger Winchester's mind with a fury. 'The house on the hill.' He thought, there was a big house on a hill, alone on the road. It was old, very old, but very inviting, bordered by a large yard and forest, and a small lake at the end of a trial. It was all so clear in the young man's mind, so crisp, so real. He remembered that house, and he had always wondered where the memory had come from.

He once told Jessica it was just a place he dreamed of, his vision of normal and safe, of a happy life. He could remember sitting up late a night, Jessica's head in his lap, both telling each other how wonderful it would be to live in that house, to be a part of that imaginary place. It was like a home to him, like a shelter in an ever darkening storm, and as the road slowly turned, and the old house came into view Sam could feel his heart starting to race.

"I know this place."

"I told you."

"No, I mean. I didn't think it was real."

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember ever being here, but I remember it. I thought I made it up or something."

"Dude, you're mind is twisted." Dean smirked as they continued slowly up the drive, the black car passing the remains of a fence and mailbox, the name 'Harrison' barely visible against the old weathered metal.

It was nowhere near as homey as Dean had remembered it, the entire place looking like it was on the road to disrepair, the paint old and chipping, grass dead and unkept, the two outlying sheds looking like one strong wind would bring them down. But it was still the same house, still the giant structure he had remembered, that he had missed. He just hoped his long trip back wouldn't be for nothing.

"It doesn't look like anyone lives here anymore." Sam commented as he brought the impala to a stop, both men surveying the property as they climbed from the car, Dean leaning heavily against the door as he tried to stretch his injured body.

"Yeah." Dean sighed as he gazed up again at the large house, the overcast day weighing down on his soul even more. 'It was wishful thinking, anyway.' "Lets just give it a once over."

"Sure." Sam relented, letting his brother lead the way. He knew that the place was probably deserted, and by the looks of it, it had been so for quite sometime, but he knew how much this all mean to Dean. This was were 'K' must have lived, either that, or some place the mystery person frequented. Sam continued to let his mind wander as he followed his brother to the back of the house, the steep hill dropping off as the basement level came into view, the old stone walls of the ground floor showing the building's true age.

Sam guessed that it had once been a pretty formidable place, most likely owned by some mine owner who had hit it big, the house standing at a total of four floor, while other smaller buildings dotted the large property around it. Sam knew the layout of the house, knew it by heart though he could not remember ever having been inside. It was strange, really, everything around him was so familiar, so comforting, that he suddenly found himself berating his mind, scolding him memories for ever forgetting such a place.

"Huh." Sam began, his eyes falling on one of the dilapidated sheds. "Maybe someone is home." He continued, pointing towards the black car parked just inside the doors, the vehicle looking to be in better shape then the entire house.

"69' firebird." Dean whispered, a smile spreading across his face, his eyes brighter then they had been in a long time. "Thank god."

"Why?" But any answer was cut off by the sound of metal banging against metal echoing up to them from the open doors of the basement.

Dean motioned for his brother to remain quiet and behind him as he stealthily made his way to the door, slipping silently into the gloomy room beyond. The basement was huge and spacious, various work benches dividing the area into sections. Three large furnaces lined the far wall while the rest of the area was home to so many different types of tools that Sam found himself unable to make heads or tales of their purposes. And there, standing at the far end of the room, their back to the boys was a lone figure.

Sam couldn't tell if it was a man or a women, the individual clad in an oversized jacket and thick gloves, their hair hidden beneath a backwards baseball cap and face concealed by a welder's mask. Whoever it was leaning over the table, torch in one hand, welding together an iron frame, completely unaware of the Winchester's presence as a shower of sparks continued to cascade from the table.

"So." Dean began, the figure before them not even flinching as he spoke. "What do I owe you?"

"Oh, you know, Winchester. A pile of gold and your undying admiration." The person before them answered, and, much to Sam's surprise, the voice was unmistakably that of a woman.

Have no fear, there be no girlfriends here. ok, enough of channeling pirates. :)