The bit in the middle

For three years, every month Sam sent out a letter to Dean, each letter started the same, each one ending the same way. Dear Dean. They all sang their own unique song, crying out for Dean in their own different way, the longing and need masking itself in the mountains of words and senseless stories.

Each letter found its way to a city, nowhere in particular, just cities where Dean might be. They traveled alongside Sam's false hope that somehow, somewhere Dean might receive a letter and know Sam still cared. So that Dean knew exactly how much Sam cared, how much Sam misses his brother and how each night his heart and soul cried out for Dean. Sam sent out the letters so Dean would know how much he meant to Sam, that every inch of him cried out for his brother. Sam knew Dean traveled for his work, so one day, no matter how far in the future Dean would find one of his letters, and in turn, find him.


20th February 2004

The gentle reassuring rumble of the car's engine always soothed Dean's mind, after all, it was a he had left. The constant need to travel around the country for work and reside in the same dank cheap motels left Dean homeless most of his adult life, the impala was the only thing that remained. Everything else had left him, his family, Bobby, and Sam… worst of all Sam.

It was only an hour or so after Dean had checked into the motel when someone gently knocked on the shoddy, half dismantled door requesting his presence. Letting out a huff of annoyance Dean managed to peal himself away from the coffee stained couch and lumbered towards the door.

Dean's fingers curled around the doorknob as he slowly opened the door, the hinges creaking and groaning from the rust and neglect. A small letter sat on the floor mat outside his door addressed to him in the all too familiar handwriting. The messy scrawl of the black pen against the stark white envelope stood out like a sore thumb, Dean Winchester.

Those two words sent a rush of butterflies through Dean's stomach, but these were more like a swarm of Amazonian butterflies scraping against the lining of his stomach. Slowly reaching down with a shacking hand Dean plucked up the letter, glazing intently at the two words that marked the front of the envelope. This was Sam, it couldn't be anyone else. Could it?

Over two years Dean has waited for Sam, over two years Dean has traveled alone whenever the job called and never did he receive a single call, message or anything from Sam. I mean how could he? Sam ran away, leaving Dean alone to rot from the inside out.

Dean was abandoned and left utterly alone, not a single person remained in his life that he could claim as family and then Dean waited. Waited for days, even months for his self-destruction and inevitable demise but it never really came. Just the same self-hatred, meaningless sex alcohol addiction that fueled him for years.

It lurked in the corners of his mind, teasing him, prodding and poking. It knew Dean; it knew exactly how to break him and it waited, waited for its moment to strike. Dean never anticipated it would be because of a simple letter, a letter addressed to him. Dean Winchester.


Dean's hands shook as he gazed at the foreign paper in his hands, trembling slightly; he knew this letter would undo him. Ignoring his mind screaming at him to stop, it was his heart that was in complete control, it was his heart that tore open the envelope and plucked out the letter.

That's when he started to read, the date was marked on the top of the page, 27th April, 2003, it was the date struck Dean. A year ago Sam sent this letter, sent it into nowhere, a deadbeat town, just purely relying on the hope Dean would find it… and he did.

That's when he started reading…

Dear Dean,

Why do I do this, why do I still write to you. It's not like you'll ever reply, ever come down to visit.

Those words struck Dean; it was like someone plunged their hand into Dean's chest and started to squeeze his heart. His throat started to constrict as his mouth turned dry. Dean knew his hands were shaking, the word still echoed through his head. Forcing himself to read on Dean forced his hands to stop shaking.

If the first line made him feel like this, who knows what reading whole letter would do to him. Dean certainly was not going to survive this, or at least come out unscathed.

You and dad are still wrapped up in your own little world,

Dean's breath haltered for a moment, the word dad floated in front of his eyes. Dean hadn't seen John since… a very long time ago. How could Sam ever think…? Dean just pushed those ideas out of the already whirlwind in his brain that was his thoughts. There were more important things instead of his father to think about… like Sam. But why was Sam talking about John?

I was never part of that before and I sure as hell am not part of it now. I never will be, I never was one of you; you and dad had your own thing going on even if you never spoke in front of me. I always saw you and dad drive out every morning, silently and oblivious to each other as if you both never existed on each other's eyes. I know how many times I say this, it's so tedious but I will say it again and again. Why wasn't I as important? Why was leaving with dad every morning more important that staying with me?

Dean's fingers curled around the corners of the letting, the paper crumpling in his tight grip. How could Sam ever think something like that ever happened? Dean certainly never snuck out all the time in the morning. So what he left for the job early, but he was not sneaking.

Dean's eyes skimmed over the rest before resting on Sam's name that was neatly placed at the bottom.

Sam. W.

Each letter carried its own elegance, a purpose. Each stoke held its own personality and strength that was in Sam. Dean knew he had to track down these letters. He needed to do it for Sam.

Not one did he ever consider that maybe not everything was for Sam but for him, a way to piece back his soul one tiny piece at a time. Sam was the missing piece and Dean was sure as hell gonna find him.


REVIEWS AND STUFF ARE MUCH APPRECIATED. I'M ALSO ON AO3 - /works/2277225/chapters/5004102 SO YEAH. THANK YOU TO THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THIS.