Dean stayed there like that for the span of several minutes, shifting his stance so that his feet were shoulder length apart. Balanced, stable. His boots on the dusty ground felt good. Solid. Dry earth beneath him. He could feel the Impala's door smooth and hard against his back. Good. This was good. Real and firm and solid. He took another deep breath, concentrated on washing away the remnants of the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. Sometimes he could do this and feel pure again. Clean. Not tainted from all his sins and experiences. He was a killer. He knew it. And even as there was one side of him that embraced it- longed for it- craved the adrenaline, there was another part of him that he kept tucked away that wasn't like that at all. Another part that saw things through his sense of humor and adventure. It was the part of him that took care of Sammy. Loved his dad. Doted on Baby.

The Dean that would do anything to ease someone's suffering. Throw himself into any danger to save someone. Dean the Caretaker. Dean the Protector. Dean the Savior. The part of him that was always at odds with Dean the Killer. Dean the Warrior. Dean the Hunter. He missed the softer parts of himself. Parts he had to bury further and further to muddle through the day.

A memory tugged at the surface. Dean's finger on the trigger. The deer lined up in his sights. Bobby watching him expectantly. Silently. Even as a twelve year old he was a good shot. He could have taken it. Hours traipsing through the woods, tracking, searching. Waiting- culminating here. Here. He hesitated. Hesitated. Watched the deer pick its head up, rotate its ears. Flick its white tail. He could snuff it out. Just like that.

"Take the shot, boy." Bobby mouthed. Dean hesitated. Sam hesitated. In the end it was Bobby who dropped the young buck with one precise shot. He looked at the two young boys with a mixture of annoyance and reproach, but underneath that in the blue eyes was affection. "You two girls can't shoot a freaking dear."

"I didn't want to kill it, Uncle Bobby."

And now he killed monsters in human form without a second thought. Pulled the trigger and ended lives all the time. He was a hunter through and through down to his boots. But he was a pale imitation of his father even though he tried with every fibre of his being to emulate John Winchester. Deep inside he knew he didn't have the mettle. Didn't have the iron will that ran through John's soul. 'God, Dad come back. I need you. I'm scared. I'm in over my head.' He wanted his leader back. His decision maker. His rock.

And suddenly, Dean missed his mother. The idea struck him as inane. Stupid. He hadn't had a mother since he was four...but oh, how he wanted her now. He felt certain that if Mary were there she could take those cracks in the foundation and shore them up. Brace the structure. Patch the hairline cracks in the walls because Dean was pretty sure that that's what mothers did.

He wanted to hug her and have her tell him it was alright. That he was doing fine. Touch his cheek, brush his hair back. Absolve him of his sins. Dad could never do those things. He could beam with pride. Share a beer. Thump him on the back, but that wasn't what he needed right now. Dean closed his eyes. Breathe. Breathe. Its okay, Dean. He told himself. It's okay... No it wasn't. It was 10 shades of fucked up. But if he could just get past this rough spot, find his footing, find his father, it would all get easier. It had to. It couldn't stay this bad.

For now he had Sammy. That was okay. In reality, it had been him and Sam for so many years. He could do this. As long as he had his brother...and he liked having his brother with him. There were genuine moments when they were together when Dean felt... happy.

Sam. Dean reluctantly got into the Impala, slammed her door and leaned his head back a minute with a deep exhale. He turned the keys in the ignition. He had to head back and pick up his brother. His best friend. His only friend, really. The minute he got cell reception he heard his phone ping rapidly as a succession of text messages hit his inbox. Too bad. It was just going to have to wait. He accelerated with a reflective smile.

Sam looked less than pleased when Dean pulled into the motel parking lot an hour later. The younger Winchester was sitting on the sidewalk outside their motel room, their duffel bags at his feet. He caught sight of the Impala and his face darkened like a thundercloud. Dean pulled up with a cheerful smile and swung open the door.

"Hey, Sammy!"

"Where have you been?" He pulled himself to his feet looking momentarily imposing, his already broad chest puffed out in anger. But his tone had an edge of petulance like it always did. "I've been standing here for an hour, Dean. We were supposed to be out of the room by eleven."

"Standing? Really? Looks like you were sitting to me."

Sam shot him a warning glare. "Don't."

"Oh come on, Sam. You could have gone and gotten a beer."

"No, Dean, I couldn't. I left my wallet in the glove compartment."

"Well who's fault is that, dipshit?"

Sam didn't answer him. Instead he hurled the bags into the backseat.

"Hey, hey don't take it out on my baby."

"Dean, I'm really mad at you right now. Why didn't you at least answer your phone?" They were facing each other over the shiny black hood of the Impala.

"I didn't have any service."

"Where did you go?"

"I went for a drive."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "A drive? You realize we have a twelve hour drive ahead of us today, right?"

"Sorry, Sammy. Sometimes it's gotta just be me and my baby." Dean tried his rakish grin again.

Sam glared at him and ducked into the car, slamming the door. "You could have at least left a fucking note."

Dean sighed and climbed back into the driver's seat. He closed the door and turned on the engine and rested his arm over the top of the seat while he craned his neck to look behind him as he backed out. "I can tell you're going to be a barrel of sunshine on this trip." He quipped.

Sam's jaw muscles jerked silently.

"Oh, come on Sammy." Dean darted his eyes sideways to evaluate his brother as they pulled out onto the road. "It was only a few hours."

Sam snorted and shook his head. "You've been doing this shit to me since we were kids, Dean." The anger was simmering underneath his words even though his voice was calm. "'Here Sam, here's five dollars. Get a coke. I'll be back in a few minutes...and you'd leave me there for two hours while you did God-knows-what with some girl."

Dean felt a pang of guilt.

"Or 'here, Sam, wait in the car while I use the bathroom- for an hour. You know what? Now I'm an adult and I don't have to put up with this crap. Next time you take off, you tell me where you're going and how long you'll be gone."

Dean felt a rise of defensive of anger. "You're not my wife, Sam, and I don't have to tell you shit about where I'm going or what I'm doing with my time if I don't want to."

"You're so selfish sometimes. It's unbelievable."

Dean swung the car off the road and skidded to a halt so abruptly that Sam almost slid into the dashboard. "What the hell, Dean?!"

"I'm selfish?!" Dean got out of the car and Sam followed suit. "You want to go at this now, you son of a bitch, because I'm ready!"

Sam glared at him. "Knock it off with the dramatics, Dean."

Dean strode over to where Sam stood like an enraged lion. The elder Winchester's chest was puffed out, arms at his side, stance at the ready. Radiating conflict. Full fight mode. There was no talking him down when he was like this. He knew it. Sam knew it. Dean's pain had been looking for an outlet and Sam was as good an outlet as any.

"Seriously, you're going to throw a punch at me because I asked you to leave a note?" Sam's disbelieving tone lit Dean's anger further.

"How dare you call me selfish? After what I've sacrificed for you- done for you your whole life! You never went hungry because of me!" Dean jabbed a finger in his own chest. "I lied for you. Cheated for you! Stole for you- to take care of you! It shouldn't have been my responsibility- I was a kid myself!"

"I didn't ask to be your responsibility. That was Dad's fault. Blame him. Take your anger out on him when we find him." Sam's tone was measured. "I'm just asking you to send me a freaking text. It's not that hard." There was a pause. "This doesn't have to be a crisis- except, of course, if you want to make it one."

Oh boy, did Dean want to make it one. He lunged for Sam's collar. The taller man sidestepped and deflected, sending Dean banging into the side of the Impala.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean straightened himself and glared at Sam. He could see by Sam's body language that he had finally pushed him far enough to get a rise out of his placid little brother. Sam clenched his fists at his side. His nostrils flared. It was so fucking on.

tbc...

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