AN: For this Chapter I'm pulling from the look on Dean's face in Dark Side of the Moon when he was talking to Sam in that little shack Sam ran away to. It's gets kind of intense, I hope you like it.
Dean took a deep breath as the doorknob turned; this was going to get bad. Maybe he could lie about where Sam was for a couple days. Say he was at a friends or something, buy him some time he could find him if he had a little bit more time.
"Hey," John said dropping his duffle back hard on the floor. "How's it been?"
"Fine," Dean coughed. "How was the hunt? Easy as you figured?"
"Yeah," John nodded walking to the fridge. "Lore was a little off, but easy enough to figure out. You have dinner already?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Dean answered. He was so nervous; he knew his dad could tell.
"Where's Sammy?" John looked around the trailer. "It's too quiet in here."
"Sam's um… Sam's…" Dean stuttered. What was the answer? Sam's gone? Sam might be dead? I haven't seen Sam in a week and half? "Sam's…"
"You let him go out with his friends?" John rolled his eyes.
Dean nodded. "Didn't want me to tell you. Didn't want you to get mad."
John shrugged. "I'm gonna order some Chinese, you want any?"
Dean shook his head. "No, Dad, I'm good, thanks."
Dean put his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands. He was so screwed. He had to find Sam the next day, he had to or he'd be fertilizing a rose garden.
"What's up with you?" John asked. "Girl trouble?"
"Something like that," Dean nodded.
"Courtney?" John asked "Cory?"
"Cassandra," Dean corrected. She was the sister of a co-worker, they met when she was on spring break from UCLA, it wasn't really worth mentioning, but she'd shown up at the trailer a couple times. "No, she went back to California a few weeks ago. Sam's got this chick he's sweet on though. It's weird."
"You talked to him, right?" John asked seriously. "He knows about girls?"
"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.
"He at the girl's place now?" John asked.
"No," Dean shook his head. "No, he, ah, he said he was going to friends, track team thing I think. I wasn't really paying attention to be honest, sir."
He knew he should quit while he was ahead, the deeper he dug the hole the further down he'd end up buried in the end. He'd been looking for over a week, nothing he could think of gave him hope he'd find the kid tomorrow.
"I'll be back in a few," John said standing up. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's hard watchin' 'em grow up, but you just gotta let him do his own thing. Let him make his own mistakes. That's what Bobby said to me when you started seein' that girl in Idaho when you were Sam's age. He'll be fine. Gots a good head on his shoulders."
John turned and walked out the door. Dean sighed; he felt warm tears on the side of his face. He was so fucking screwed.
For the first night since Sam disappeared, Dean slept in their room. Slept isn't the right word, more like stared at the ceiling waiting for it to be late enough to leave and pretend he was going to work without looking suspicious. He drove around like he had been for the last week and half. Checking the hangouts, looking for abandoned buildings, no sign of Sam anywhere. He waited outside the school again, watching the parking lot for Tiffany. When he saw her, he got so excited he forgot what he was waiting for. He ran across the parking lot, slamming her driver's side door shut as she opened.
"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded. "And blow don't smoke up my ass, Tiffany, this is serious. Where's my brother?"
"I don't know," Tiffany replied trying to open the door.
"I'm not playing games, Tiffany," Dean said. "It's not funny anymore, our dad's home and he's gonna kill me unless I find him."
"Sounds like a personal problem," Tiffany said placing her hands on her hips. "Get out of my way before I scream."
"I just want to know if he's alive," Dean said.
"Don't be over dramatic," Tiffany sighed. "He doesn't want to go home, alright. Get out of my way."
"Tell him to call," Dean said. "Just tell him Dad's home. I'm sure he's told you about our dad. Tell him I can only cover for him for another day at the most before he starts seeing right through the bullshit. Tell him to call, leave a message, make up something if he doesn't wanna come home. Just tell him to get in contact with us."
"Move," Tiffany said shoving his arm away from her car.
Dean when home after his confrontation with Tiffany parked the Impala next to his Dad's truck. He knew his clothes were too clean to pass for working all day, but hopefully his dad wouldn't notice. He opened the door and saw his Dad drinking a beer in front of the television. So far so good.
"So," John said when the door closed. "I stopped by the shop you were working at to bring you some lunch and the owner said you hadn't shown up for work in over a week. Care to explain that?"
"Not really," Dean chuckled.
"Funny cuz the owner said that you cut out after lunch a week and a half ago saying your brother was missing," John replied.
Dean sighed and banged the back of his head against the door.
"Wanna explain that?"
"Not really," Dean answered.
"Where's Sam," John demanded turning around.
"I… I don't know…" Dean mumbled to the floor.
"A little louder," John said.
"We got in a fight cuz I made fun of him kissing his little girlfriend," Dean explained. "Then the next day I was late getting home from work, but I left a message telling him to eat dinner, I'd take care of myself. When I got home he wasn't here and all his stuff was gone. I figured he was just mad. The next day I went to the school, tried to get him out early but they said he didn't show up. And I can't find him. And I came back here and I noticed that the envelope that I keep the emergency money in was empty."
"When was that?" John asked.
"Wednesday after you left," Dean mumbled.
"A fucking week and half?" John said, standing up. "He's been missing for a week and half and you lied about it."
"I didn't want you to get mad," Dean said trying to back up, but he was right up against the door.
"Too late," John said.
Dean wasn't that much shorter than his father, maybe an inch, if that, but right now Dean felt tiny; like he hadn't since he was a little kid, long before John put a shotgun in his hand. He felt like that five year old that accidently spilled chocolate milk on a motel carpet and spanked him until back side was raw. Usually his dad was all bark, but right now, that look in his eyes he was ready to bite, and Dean was frozen, suck against that door with no escape.
"How much money was missing?" John growled.
"Only like forty bucks," Dean answered. He was afraid to look at his father but he was afraid to break eye contact.
"Enough for a bus ticket?" John was right up in Dean's space, breathing his air. "So he could be anywhere. Your little brother, the only person who gives a shit about you could be anywhere and you lied to me about it instead of calling me the second you noticed he was missing so I could find him."
"I didn't… I didn't… I didn't want you got get mad," Dean stammered. "I just… I don't know… I thought I could find him."
"Well," John laughed. "Clearly you're a fucking failure at that too. You have one job Dean. You've been in charge of one fucking thing your whole life, and you let it walk out the door and disappear. How fuckin' hard is it to keep track of a fifteen year old who whacks off to a physics book for fun?"
"I'm sorry," Dean said trying his damnedest not to cry. He couldn't cry in front of his dad. That was the worst possible thing he could ever do. "I didn't mean to. It was a joke. I didn't mean to piss him off. I thought he'd come home. I'm sorry. He's seen worse, I mean like they were just kissing, it's not like they were fucking and he had to know I was gonna open that door. I mean, like, he's known me his whole life he shoulda known…"
"Shut up!" John yelled slamming his fist against the wall next to Dean's face. Dean closed his eyes and pulled away. "I don't want an excuse I want you to find your fucking brother."
"I've looked everywhere," Dean mumbled. "Everywhere, shown his picture to shop owners bothered the few friends I know he has. I can't find him sir."
"Obviously," John growled low right against Dean's ear. "You didn't look hard enough."
"I did though," Dean answered nodding. "I swear to God, I did. I looked everywhere, old abandoned buildings, the library. I broke into the library at night and searched it, just to make sure he wasn't sleeping there. I don't know where he is."
"He could be dead," John slammed his hand against the wall again. "And you don't know where he is. You have one job Dean! One fucking job your whole shitty life."
"I'm sorry," Dean was shaking, trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard stand up to his dad, convince him that he'd done his best, but he couldn't. He was that little boy terrified that his dad was going hit him. It was be easier if his dad just hit him. "I know I did it wrong, but I didn't… I didn't think he'd never come back. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll find him. I'll find him."
"You'd better find him," John said softly. "He could be anywhere. Literally anywhere. Could have caught a bus outta town. You call Bobby?"
Dean shook his head.
"Well start there you stupid son of bitch," John said adjusting the collar of Dean's shirt. "You ain't sleeping or eating to you find him."
"Yes sir," Dean nodded. John stepped aside to let Dean run off toward the phone.
His hands shook as he dialed the phone, holding back tears he couldn't let fall in front of John, tears that he couldn't let Bobby hear.
"Singer," the voice on the under end of the line sighed.
"Bobby?" Dean's voice broke; he cleared his throat and tried again. "Bobby, its Dean."
"What's wrong boy?" Bobby asked. "Everyone okay?"
"I… I…" Dean cleared his throat again. "Has Sammy called you? I… he… I can't find him."
"Dean," Bobby sighed sympathetically into the phone. "When did he… when's the last time you saw him."
"The sixth," Dean answered. "He left for school and never came home."
"When's your Daddy due home?"
"He's standing behind me," Dean replied.
"Dean." He could hear Bobby running a hand down his face while the thought about what to do. "Have you looked for him?"
"Everywhere," Dean answered, suddenly unable to hold back the waterworks. "Everywhere twice, and then all the places I didn't think he'd be. I screwed up, Uncle Bobby. I screwed up really bad."
"Where are you?"
"Arizona," Dean answered wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Flagstaff."
"It's gonna take about a day for me to get there, okay?" Bobby said. "But I'm leavin' as soon as I hang up this phone. I'll be there as soon as I can. We'll find him."
Dean nodded a few times before remembering that he was on the phone. "Okay."
"Keep your head up, kiddo," Bobby said softly. "You did what you could. I know that. Don't let your daddy tell you different. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Okay," Dean nodded. "Okay." Bobby's end of the line went dead, and Dean slowly hung up his end.
"So," John pressed.
"Bobby's on his way," Dean mumbled. "Be here in about a day."
"Wipe those tears," John growled. "You don't deserve to be cryin' them."
Dean squeezed his eyes shut and wiped his face the best he could. "I'm sorry."
John was back up in his space again. "You're not sorry. You're irresponsible and lazy. You think you can do the job I do? You think you have what it takes to be a hunter? You can't keep track of your kid brother! Didn't have what it takes to finish high school."
"I missed two months of school in a fuckin' coma," Dean defended. "Another month and a half in rehab."
"Don't talk back to me," John's hand was in Dean's face. "And don't use that kind of language in front me. You don't got any excuses. You don't get a do over for this one. You're just a stupid as I always thought you were. Just as stupid as all those teachers I sat and defended you in front of, tellin' them you weren't dumb you were just a little slow had difficultly comprehending. It's got nothin' to do with that does it, Dean. You're just a fuckin' moron aren't you?"
Dean sucked in a breath. "Yes, sir."
"Imagine if your mom could see you," John laughed. "Little boy all grown up, fuckin' high school dropout piece of shit loser who can't babysit a fifteen year old for a week. You think she'd be proud of what you've made of yourself?"
Dean shook his head, eyes glued to the floor. "No, sir, I don't think she would."
"You're a loser," John said, finally backing away. "You're a piece of shit loser. Get out there and find your fucking brother. Don't bother coming back here til you got him. And don't for a second think you're taking my car anywhere."
Dean fished the keys out of his pocket and placed them on the table. He took a deep breath and looked his father in the eye.
"Get the fuck out of my sight," John growled.
Dean nodded and walked out the door, determined as ever to find that kid, prove his dad wrong; prove he was worth something. He didn't know where to look, he'd already looked everywhere, so he just walked through the park, hoping something would pop out to him, but nothing did. He found his way back to their trailer, but he knew he couldn't dare go inside. So he laid down in the back of his dad's pick up, using his jacket as a pillow and let himself cry until he fell asleep.
He woke up because his head hit the open tailgate on the way to the ground.
"The fuck?" Dean moaned, head pounding, his father standing over him.
"This is how you look for Sam?" John asked. "This is what you've been doing for the last two weeks?"
"No," Dean shook his head, trying to push himself up off the ground. "No, I looked all night. I just got back."
"Right," John scoffed. "Get up."
Dean did his best. Tried to push up, but he head was pounding, bleeding from a cut on his temple. He knew he had a concussion, a bad one if he had to guess. He struggled to his feet and leaned against the truck.
"Let's go," John demanded. "Start walking, you lost him; you find him."
Dean felt like he was going to puke, started to take deep breaths, his vision going blurry and back to normal over and over. He heard a car pull up, old beat up two doors, one of Bobby's cars. He'd made the twenty hour drive in fifteen, must have worried.
"What's up?" Bobby said, jumping out of the car and walking over. "What happened to Dean's head?"
"He lost Sam," John answered.
"So you hit him?" Bobby accused.
"I fell," Dean answered, and then started dry heaving, bent over double beside the car.
"I'm sure you did," Bobby said skeptically. "Have you looked for Sam? Cuz I believe that boy when he says he scoured this town. He cares about his brother more than he cares about himself. If Sammy doesn't wanna be found, you ain't gonna find him, you gotta let him come back. Dean didn't do nothing wrong."
"He's been gone for over a week, Bobby," John replied. "It's Dean's job to watch out for him."
"No, John," Bobby said, getting right into his face. "It's not."
This was the first time Dean had ever seen anyone stand up to his dad; give back to him what he was so good at giving out. Dean sat down at the tailgate, too dizzy to stay upright; he definitely had a concussion.
"You're the parent here, John," Bobby continued. "You're the one who's supposed to be watching those boys, not dumping them at some trailer park in the middle of Arizona while you run off God knows where and leave Dean in charge. You've been dragging those boys all over everywhere, pullin' them out of school at your whims. No wonder that boy ran off. The only thing surprising here is Dean hasn't taken off and took Sam with him somewhere. But from the look on his face, that boy's too afraid of you to piss without asking first."
"You don't know a damn thing," John said, right in Bobby's face like he was Dean's the night before. "You don't got a family Bobby, you don't know what's best. They ain't your kids. You don't get to tell me how to raise 'em. And that boy," John pointed at Dean. "Is the reason Sam's gone. Not me."
"Keep tellin' yourself that," Bobby said backing up. He walked over to Dean and pulled him up. "Come one, buddy, I'll go with you. It's the weekend, so maybe we'll be able to flush him out."
Dean nodded, let Bobby pull him up, let Bobby put him in the passenger's side of his car; left his Dad standing in the front yard.
"Let's start at the beginning, okay?" Bobby said as they left the park. "Where would Sam go?"
"The library," Dean answered forehead pressed against the window. "But I've checked the library almost every day."
"Alright?" Bobby replied. "You show the librarian a picture?"
"I only got this one," Dean pulled his wallet out of his pocket, showed Bobby Sam's sixth grade school picture. "I don't got a more recent one."
"I do," Bobby said. "Got one of you boys we took a Christmas. That'll help. We'll find him, Dean."
"Okay," Dean nodded.
They hit all the spots that Dean had been to so many times in the last week, but with the updated picture, people recognized him. Librarian said Sam had been in a few times, was there the night before for a while, so at least Dean could breathe a sigh of relief that Sam hadn't got himself killed. The guy at the bowling alley hadn't seen him, but the skating rink guy said Sam and cute brunette had been there the previous weekend. The pizza place up the road from there had seen him multiple times, which made Dean want to jump the counter, because he'd shown that stupid asshole Sam's picture a hundred times in the last ten days.
"I delivered to this kid once," the punk behind the counter at the pizza place said holding the picture Bobby had in his hand.
"I've been here every day askin' if you've seen him and you told me you hadn't," Dean growled. Bobby pushed him back by the chest.
"You were showin' me that picture of some little boy," the guy scoffed. "This teenager though, I've seen this teenager."
"Where did you deliver to?" Bobby asked.
"Weirdest thing," the guy laughed. "I thought the place was abandoned, but apparently there's a cute young couple livin' there; that guy and his girlfriend."
"Where," Dean demanded. The guy scribbled and address down on a napkin, gave a quick set of directions and they were on the road again.
"I never headed this far out," Dean said as they pulled down a dirt road. "I didn't know there was anything out here."
"Locals know the best spots, kid," Bobby answered as they pulled in front of rundown seemingly abandoned house.
"That's Tiffany's car," Dean sighed. "I shoulda fuckin' followed her."
"You did the best you could," Bobby replied.
"You've been looking for three hours," Dean said punching the dashboard. "I've been looking for ten days and I couldn't find him."
"It's okay," Bobby said placing a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna stay here?"
"I don't…"Dean sighed. "I have a headache, and I'm gonna kill him, so it's probably for the best, I guess."
"I'll be right back," Bobby popped the door open, gave Dean one last sad look before walking toward the house. Dean let his head fall back against the head rest. He should have called Bobby right off. He should have been smart about this. If he'd been smarter about this, if he wasn't such a moron he would have found Sam a week ago. Bobby came out of the house shoving Sam in front of him, Sam's duffle bag in his hand, a random golden retriever barking behind them.
"What about my dog?" Sam whined as Bobby pushed him into the back seat.
"Ain't your dog, boy," Bobby answered, climbing into the front seat. "That girl will take care of it."
"What happened to your face?" Sam asked Dean when he turned to look at him.
"You ran away," Dean answered. "You took off and dad came home, that's what happened to my face."
"Dean," Bobby said in a warning tone. "Let's just get him home."
"All you had to do was call, Sammy," Dean said turning and facing forward, staring out the windshield. "All you had to do was call and leave a fuckin' message and everything would be fine."
When they got back to the trailer, John was packing up their things.
"You have twenty minutes," John said the moment Dean stepped out of the car. "Pack up your crap and get ready to go."
"There's like two weeks left of school!" Sam sighed. "That's not fair Dad."
John took a step toward Sam, but Bobby stepped forward. "You took off, dipshit. You don' get a say."
"You can't pull him outta school two weeks before finals," Bobby said calmly. Dean walked into the trailer to pack up his things while they fought outside.
He was still dizzy from his fall off the truck, his head still pounding. He felt like he'd wasted the last two weeks, like he was worthless. Bobby found his brother in three hours. He collected his books, the ones that Sam given him, the old fire truck the he always place on the dresser no matter where they were living. The only thing he had of a happier time, a normal time. There was a wheel missing, the ladder was broken off, but he kept it. He shoved it in his bag with everything else. He collected the framed photos of his mom from around the house, there were only a couple, but Dad seemed to forget about them when he was packing up. Dean had to go around and get them keep them for Sammy so he'd know what she'd look like. His duffle bag wasn't even half full. His whole life was half a duffle bag. His whole worthless life.
Sam came in, pissed, stormed into their room.
"We're not leaving," he screamed. "I'm not leaving til school is over and that jack ass can't make me."
"Maybe you should learn to use a phone," Dean said softly. "And none of this would be happening."
"Maybe you shouldn't be a huge prick," Sam spat back.
"I didn't do anything to you Sammy," Dean said, letting out a half laugh as he followed Sam into the room. "Whatever you think I did, man, I'm sorry. But I didn't deserve this. Maybe, maybe Dad deserves some of this wrath or whatever, but I didn't do anything. Don't take it out on me."
"Whatever," Sam said. "I'm not leaving."
Dean sat down on his bed and placed his head in his hands, Bobby and his dad were still fighting outside, Sam was pissed, he knew all this was his fault. If he'd been smarter, called someone when Sam didn't come home from school none of this would have happened. If he'd only done better.
AN: I hope this was alright, just judging from Dean's face in that one scene he looked terrified. I wanted to make John scary without doing too much. I hope this worked.