Where are you?

Chapter Nine

Six months after Dean had been released from hospital and four months after he had been reunited with Sam, Bobby suggested a hunt. "Bout time you got back 'in the saddle'" he said, gulping down one of his endless cups of coffee "They say that doing something familiar helps stir up the memory – and for you its hunting"

Dean sat at the kitchen table, pouring over his dad's journal. He'd read it countless times before, looking at details of previous hunts, running his hands over coffee stains and blotches that looked like tear drops on the wrinkled pages. He'd stared at it until his eyes blurred, read it backwards and forwards, but he still didn't remember. All he had were vague impressions; a stern voice, grey beard and hair, the smell of gun oil and leather, a voice in his head "I'm proud of you son". His father in the cab of his truck; his father with a gun in his hand and, most disturbingly, his father with yellow eyes, laughing at him, as his chest tore and blood stained his skin.

Was he ready for hunting again? Sure Bobby had told him about how good he had been, spent hours talking about Dean's exploits. Bobby had also taken Dean out back and practised shooting with him. Dean knew he was still good, but he was unsure if he was a good as he used to be.

He glanced across at Sam. His brother was sitting on the sofa, flipping the channels of Bobby's old TV. Sam looked better than ever; he had put on weight and had spent hours in the fresh air, walking with Missouri or with Dean. Sam's skin was brown now rather than bone white and the shakes in his hands and body had stilled. As if he knew he was being watched, Sam switched off the TV and turned to Dean, a wide smile making the dimples in his cheek deepen "Hey – are you ok?"

"Yeah – just – Bobby has a hunt for us – he said that doing something familiar might help me with my memory"

"He might be right" Sam shrugged "How do you feel about that?"

"I'm not sure that I'm ready. Hell I'm not sure that we are ready"

"The shakes have stopped" Sam grinned wryly "I guess I could hold a gun again"

"There must be something else that we can do together" Dean swallowed; his eyes on Sam's face "We must have done other things – right?"

"We used to go to bars while you hustled pool" Sam quirked an eyebrow "But as I'm not allowed to drink – that's out – not that I was ever a big drinker" he paused and Dean saw a fleeting sadness flicker across his hazel eyes "Before"

"What else?" Dean got up and joined his brother on the sofa "We must have done other things together – family things"

There was a long silence and Dean could hear his brother breathing, heavy and slow. He glanced over at Sam, wondering what was wrong. Sam glanced back, his expression unreadable "We hunted – stayed in seedy motels – drank at bars – and hunted" Sam shrugged "What more can I say to you?"

"What about when we were kids? We must have done things then, Christmas? Birthdays?" Dean moved closer to his brother and put a hand on his knee "Sam?"

"We were never really in one place long enough to do anything" Sam put his hand over Dean and squeezed "Dad raised us like soldiers Dean – he – he did his best – but our childhood – it wasn't anything like normal"

"I don't remember" Dean felt lost, sudden loneliness and despair flooding his veins "I don't remember – I just thought – maybe – our life wasn't just hunting"

"When we were little – you always remembered my birthday" Sam was smiling, eyes distant "You always used to trim up the rooms where we stayed and you used to buy me cake and put a candle in the top" he shrugged "When I was ten – dad said we were too old for that sort of thing and then – well – it sorta stopped"

Dean stared at his brother, eyes wide. Sam didn't look sad or angry, just kind of distant "I don't even know when your birthday is" Dean's voice was low "Or mine for that matter"

"It doesn't matter Dean" Sam was shaking his head

"It does to me" Dean didn't mean to sound angry but he was. Sam stared hard at him and Dean saw something flash in those clear hazel eyes. He saw Sam's jaw jut out, his wide nostrils flare a little, he saw Sam's shoulders tense a little and he knew – he knew with clarity that Sam – his Sam – not the needy broken Sam of the last few months – was back "Listen Sammy – it matters to me – ok"

"My birthday is 2nd May – yours is 24th January" Sam was still staring, his jaw set

"Too late for yours and too early for mine" Dean forced a laugh "I guess we will have to do Christmas then"

"Dean…do you want this hunt?" Sam was trying to change the subject and Dean recognised his brother's attempt to lighten the mood. Dean's chest felt tight and there was a lump forming in his throat, a lump he couldn't swallow down – however hard he tried.

He was scared; no – he was terrified. It was one thing to be told you were a good hunter – but another to actually go on a hunt. He might have been convinced that he had once killed any manner of supernatural creature, but he couldn't remember doing it, he couldn't remember holding a gun or a knife, couldn't remember burning bones or digging graves. He clutched Sam's hand in his, his brother's knuckles turning white under the pressure "No – I – Shit Sam – I don't know – I don't know anything anymore. I remember some things and not others – I – there is still this huge gap – this darkness – I'm scared Sam – I don't know how to do this any more"

"Dean" Sam swallowed and looked down at their entwined fingers "I – I've watched you nearly die three fucking times now man and I don't want to have to do it again – but Dean – its still out there – the demon – it still has plans for me – its just waiting there – binding its time – we have to do this man – we have to" he shook his head "Dad wanted us to do this Dean – saving people – hunting things – it's the family business" he bit his lip hard "I never wanted this either Dean – but its our destiny – we can't escape it"

Dean wanted nothing more than to run; but instead he sat on the sofa, staring at his brother, aware, perhaps for the first time, of the magnitude of what they did – hunting – saving people – coming face to face with evil. He wondered what that other Dean – the old Dean – the hard, unemotional Dean – would do "Ok Sammy" he said, finally, resigned "Lets do this thing"

TBC