Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. I also do not own the title.
Author's Note: Thanks to all the kind reviews and story alerts! It means a lot to know you all are enjoying this. Don't be shy if you haven't reviewed yet; I would love to hear from you!
Author's Note 2: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. I've been helping out at summer camp over the past two weeks and haven't been getting home until like eight o'clock at night. I'll try to update more on weekends.
Author's Note 3: Sorry for the cliffhanger. Had to add some drama to this otherwise boring chapter.
Enjoy the story! Please review!
Summary: The day Lucifer rose was the day Sam disappeared. Weeks later, Dean and Castiel find him in an abandoned town, injured and unconscious and no memory whatsoever as to what happened. With Dean's help, the brothers begin to uncover what really happened to Sam and learn how to become brothers again.
You Found Me
Chapter 2
Twenty-four Hours Earlier
Dean stormed into the ancient house, letting the rickety old door slam shut behind him. The voices he had heard having a murmured conversation in the kitchen fell silent as he burst into it, earning surprised glances from the two men sitting at the kitchen table, untouched coffees in their grasps.
"Dean," the shorter, older one in a trucker cap started. Dean, who had been pouring himself a mug of coffee, spun around to glare at him.
"Not now, Bobby," he growled, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He had dark circles underneath his red rimmed, bloodshot eyes and had two days worth of stubble gracing his chin. He looked awful.
"You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up, boy," Bobby said, shaking his head. "Sam wouldn't want this for you."
"Stop talking about him like he's fucking dead already!" Dean yelled, slamming his fist down on the counter. "He's not dead."
He was shaking visibly as anger and fear threatened to consume him for a moment. Then, he took a deep breath and sighed, letting his mask fall back into place.
"Dean," the taller man in a trench coat began, standing up. He was taller than Dean was, but not by much. His blue eyes were full of concern.
"Save it, Castiel," Dean ordered, glaring out the window. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and lightning streaked across the sky. "I don't give a damn about your thoughts about what happened to him. He's not evil and he's not dead."
With that, he turned around and stormed out of the kitchen. Castiel sighed as he left, turning to Bobby.
"There is much that can be lost if he continues this crusade of his," he told the old hunter wearily. "It is useless. Sam Winchester is either too far gone to be saved or is dead."
"Yeah, you try telling that to Dean," Bobby grumbled, taking his trucker hat off and running a hand through what little hair he had left. "I don't get why you can't just use your angel mojo and find him."
"You don't understand," Castiel said. "The demons are cloaking him too well for an angel to see. My powers are useless."
It was Bobby's turn to sigh.
"Damn it," he said.
"Now you understand why we are urging Dean to give up on this," the angel said. "We don't want to cause harm, but he needs to understand that this search for his brother is useless. Even if he does find Sam, it will be too late."
"If it was one of your own that was missing," Bobby said. "Would you give up so easily? Sam is the only family Dean's got left. Hell, he's part of the only family I have left. We're not going to give up on him."
"I would give up on them if it was an order to," Castiel said.
"None of us except John Winchester ever had the power to order Dean to do something. Not one of us," Bobby said, shaking his head. "Dean's orders were to watch out for Sam, from his own father, from his mother, and from your God. He's not going to give up until he knows where Sam is."
"You don't sound too certain that the youngest Winchester is alive or the same person he was," Castiel commented.
"I've seen too many hunters after they've been tortured by demons," Bobby said, his gaze darkening. "That is when they make it. They're never the same. I can't see how Sam will be any different, if he hasn't given into them already."
Dean stared at the ceiling in the room he usually shared with Sam, wondering what on earth had happened to his brother. It had been close to two weeks since Lucifer had risen and Sam had disappeared from Dean's side in the convent. Two long weeks, filled with endless searching, researching, and late nights of beer, whiskey, and computer screens, trying to find some sort of hint where his brother was. Dean had even tried tracking his brother's cell phone via the GPS on his BlackBerry. He had succeeded in finding a smashed up phone in the back alley of a shady town in Maryland the week prior. There had been no other signs of Sam since.
Dean rolled over onto his side and stared at the empty bed across the room. He wondered if Sam knew that they both had been strung along by the angels and demons so that Lucifer would rise. Dean speculated whether things would have been different between them if Sam had known.
There was a knock at the locked bedroom door, breaking Dean out of his brooding. He forced himself to get off the bed and walk over to the door. He knew it was Bobby; Castiel would have just shown up in his room if he wanted to talk.
"I made some sandwiches," Bobby said gruffly as Dean pulled open the door. "Thought you might like something to eat."
The old man had brought up a plate of something that resembled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches up to the room. Dean didn't have the energy to thank him for the gesture.
"No thanks," he said. "I'm not hungry."
"Starving yourself isn't going to help you find Sam, boy," Bobby said. "You need to eat something."
"I said, no thanks," Dean said. His voice was no louder than before, but Bobby reacted as though Dean had struck him.
"All right," the older hunter said backing away. "They'll be in the kitchen if you want any."
Dean watched as Bobby walked down the stairs before closing the door and locking it again. He made a promise to himself not to open the door again unless it was for news about Sam.
He turned around and walked the few short steps to his bed, fully intent on crashing on top of it and brooding some more, but stopped short when he saw Castiel sitting on the edge. The angel had a grim look on his face.
"You found him."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of facts. There was only one reason why Castiel would bother Dean in the first place and that was if he had found Sam.
"I found the spot where he will possibly be," Castiel confirmed.
"Let's go," Dean said determinedly as thunder rumbled in the distance, signaling an oncoming storm. It was time to find his brother.
Present
Dean had the feeling that he had slept for too long when he woke up. Sure enough, when he looked outside, he could see the sun just beginning to set over the tops of the trees surrounding the salvage yard. He was certain he had just seen the sun rise when he conked out.
Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he took a glance at Sam, who was still unconscious on the couch. He looked the same as he had the night before—pale and injured. The red light streaming in from the windows did little to help; if anything, it made Sam look worse.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered running a hand through his messed up hair. "I never meant for this to happen."
What exactly did happen, Dean wasn't too sure. All that he remembered from the night in the convent was seeing his brother take out Lilith, the blinding white light, and then waking up with a concussion and a missing brother. That had been close to two weeks ago. It had only been the day before when Castiel had finally found where Sam had ended up.
"How's he doing?"
Dean whirled around to see Bobby standing in the doorway, a trucker cap in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The latter he handed to Dean.
"The same I guess," Dean said with a shrug. "He's alive."
"That's always a good thing," Bobby said placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "He'll make it, Dean."
Dean didn't reply. Instead, he took a long swig of his coffee and fiddled with the edge of the cup, waiting for Bobby to say something.
They stood there in silence for the longest time. The sun eventually set prematurely in a gathering of dark gray clouds.
"Looks like it's going to storm again," Bobby commented. "Should probably go close the upstairs window. You should get some sleep, Dean."
"I'm not going to sleep until Sam wakes up," Dean said stubbornly. "After everything he's been through, I owe him that."
Bobby sighed and headed back toward the stairs to close the window, leaving the eldest Winchester to his thoughts.
Dean sat back down in the chair, despite the protests his back put up from having to sit again for any length of time. He would take the aching muscles if it meant Sam was going to be okay.
He placed the coffee cup on the ground and wiggled his hand underneath Sam's pale, still one. He gently squeezed it, not expecting a reaction. He was surprised when the gentlest of pressures came in response.
"Sammy?" he whispered not daring to believe it.
Exhausted and pained hazel eyes opened in slits.
"D-n?"
"Sam," Dean breathed.
Sam managed to open his eyes a little wider. Dean didn't have to be an expert at reading his brother to know that the youngest Winchester was in a world of pain, but also extremely confused.
"What h'pened? Sam bit out. "Where am I?"
"You disappeared when Lucifer broke free," Dean explained. "You're at Bobby's house right now."
"Okay?"
Dean knew Sam well enough, even after recent events, to know that his brother was asking if Dean was okay.
"I'm fine, dude," Dean said. "You're the one who has been missing. Not me."
"Hurts," Sam whimpered.
Dean's heart broke at the sound. It was so pitiful and sounded so young that it made tears prick the back of his eyes.
"I know, Sammy," Dean whispered gently brushing the hair out of his brother's face. "And I'm so sorry."
Sam gazed up at him through slitted eyes, confusion and pain warring in his hazel eyes. His eyebrows quirked in a silent question.
"For not being there," Dean murmured more to himself than to Sam. "I should have been able to protect you. I should have stopped whatever it was that did this to you before it got the chance. I should have done something!"
"S'not your fault," Sam slurred. His eyes closed briefly, before they snapped open again. They instantly focused on Dean. "Okay?"
"I'm fine," Dean said again, smiling sadly at his brother. Sam obviously didn't remember he already asked that question. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," Sam admitted quietly. "Hurts."
"What hurts?" Dean asked jumping at the chance to do something, anything, for his brother.
"Everything," Sam murmured. "Head. Chest. Leg." He grimaced as he mentioned the last one. "Leg, mostly."
"That's because you hurt it pretty badly, Sam," Dean said.
Sam sighed heavily, another grimace darkening his face.
"M tired, Dean," he whispered.
"Go to sleep, Sammy," Dean murmured running his hand through his brother's hair again. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
Dean's heart lurched. How could his twenty-five year old brother sound so much like the four year old Dean had looked after all those years ago? He remembered when John had gone out on his first hunt, leaving without any explanation to a four-year-old Sam as to where he was going. Sam had been afraid to go to sleep, scared that Dean would leave in the middle of the night as well. Dean had promised to be there when he woke up and Sam had gone to sleep instantly.
"I promise," Dean said softly. "I promise, Sammy."
Sam's pained eyes closed and within seconds, he was snoring quietly. Dean smiled slightly at the sight of his sleeping brother. It felt as though he never got to see this side of Sam anymore, the side that was still a young kid that wanted his older brother. Sam had grown up, become his own independent person without much need for Dean anymore. Dean was grateful for moments like these were it was obvious that as much as Sam tried to deny it, he still needed Dean. It made him feel as though his life were worth something again.
"Dean?"
Bobby was back again. Dean glanced up from Sam's sleeping form, the smile still on his face.
"He just fell asleep," Dean said softly.
"How is he?" Bobby asked walking a little closer.
"Better then he was when we found him," Dean murmured. "But he still has a long way to go before he's better."
Bobby nodded, clapping Dean once on the shoulder.
"Make sure you eat something," the older hunter said gruffly. "There's coffee on the stove and sandwiches in the fridge. If you're going to stay up with Sam, take some."
"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said. "For everything."
Bobby nodded again, before walking out of the living room. It was only then did Dean realize that he was being watched.