* Chapter 1: Gone *
It had been three hours since Dean's body had vanished without a trace. Upon realizing that his brother's bed lay empty, Sam raced through the bunker in search of him. Initially, Sam was certain that Dean had somehow been revived – not exactly an unreasonable thought considering their history – but as he yelled out for Dean, his brother's name simply echoed through the empty shell of their home, answered only by silence. Sam's heart grew heavy again. With his search proving fruitless, Sam decided to return to where it all began: Dean's bedroom. Perhaps he had overlooked something earlier in his panic.
As Sam made his way back through the shelter, he could feel the epinephrine leaving his bloodstream. His stomach was in knots, and his thoughts in disarray. As he re-entered the library, he reflected that the bunker had always been a quiet place. If anything, he preferred it that way. Now it was too empty. Too quiet. Too dead. Even the sound his shoes made on the hallway's concrete floor did nothing to combat the choking stillness. Finally, he reached Dean's bedroom, and sagged against the closed door, defeated.
"Dammit Dean," he murmured. "Just what is going on? Where the hell are you?"
Sighing heavily, Sam ran his fingers through his hair. He turned to enter Dean's bedroom. He hesitated, unsure whether he actually wanted to see if the room remained unoccupied. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and began to reach for the handle. From the other side of the door, a muffled vibrating sound started up. Sam's eyes snapped open. He turned the door handle violently and dashed into the room. He glanced around, desperately trying to locate the source of the sound. He threw himself onto his knees and groped under the vacant bed. His hand found the vibrating object and he grabbed it tightly. While still on his knees, Sam answered the call.
"Dean?" he asked, despite being aware that it was Dean's cell phone he held in his hand.
"No, Sam. It's Castiel," the voice on the other end answered.
"I've lost Dean," blurted Sam in response.
Castiel sighed softly, "Yes, I am aware. I am so sorry Sam. I—"
"No, Cas, I don't think you understand," Sam interrupted. "I've lost Dean. He's gone. His bod—he's gone."
Sam could hear Castiel processing this information. "Gone?"
"Yes. Gone. He's not here anymore Cas, and I've searched everywhere and—Please Cas, I need your help."
"Of course Sam. I'm on my way."
Click.
Sam looked down at the phone in his hand. For a fleeting moment he wanted to call Bobby; he would know what to do. A single droplet fell on the screen, jerking him out of his daze. He got up from the floor, wiping away the tears that blurred his vision. He checked the time on Dean's phone and then pocketed it. He knew it would be a few hours before Cas arrived, so he decided to lay down.
Sam wasn't entirely sure why he chose to sleep on his dead brother's bed. Perhaps it was the shock. Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Maybe he just wanted to feel close to Dean. All things considered, this wasn't a particularly strange action to take, so he resolved to stop worrying about it. A nagging thought tugged at his consciousness as he drifted off into a restless slumber. He rolled onto his side, trying to move away from it, but it clung to his mind like Death's dire embrace.