Dean glanced at the spell. It was complex, like no spell he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of spells. The ingredients seemed normal enough for a spell, he knew hunters who would have all of this, he couldn't ask Bobby of course, Bobby couldn't know. He would make a couple calls, some of John's old colleagues. Dean glanced back at the paper, it was the ritual, the words of enchantment that were different. He furrowed his brow, were these even in Latin? It looked to be a code, some of the letters were. "Sammy, man I wish you were here," Dean sighed. Sam would know how to figure this out, he always was the genius. "Sam you geek," Dean chuckled thinking of his overgrown Sasquatch of a brother and how excited Sam always was when he had a puzzle to figure out.
Dean glanced back at the note Sam had written on the bottom of the page. Sam, how were you going to figure this out? What would you do? Dean sat down wearily on a workbench, staring around the garage. His eyes came to rest on the boxes of Sam's books, the notes, of course! Dean smiled, and quickly walked to the boxes, Sam wrote everything down. His passwords, any thoughts he had on a case, what he had to eat that day… As organized as Sam was, he couldn't remember all the little numbers and notes he thought. His mind was always running a million miles a minute. After John's death, Sam had started keeping his own journal of their hunts. Dean dug through the boxes of papers and books, wish some of Sam's organization had rubbed off on him, he would be able to find stuff easier. He pulled out books and rifled through each one, looking for clues on weird spells, or symbols.
2 hours, and 4 beers later, Dean was staring at empty boxes, and books and papers spread from one side of the garage to the other. He took a drink out of his fifth beer and sighed, a whole lot of nothing, not one scribbled note on Hell or a book on crazy spells. "Dammit Sam, give me something!" Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, and gazed at the mess spread before him. He grabbed the closest notebook and started rifling through it again before slamming it shut and tossing it into a box. He pulled the crumpled spell out of his pocket and read it for what seemed the hundredth time, where else would you look Sam? You didn't want Bobby to know, so who would you call? Dean stood up, shoved the paper back in his pocket and strode towards Sam's duffle, he'd left everything exactly like it was when Sam was here. He pulled back the zipper and almost laughed at how empty it was. Sam never had much, they had always were moving from place to place, Dean's entire world was a car, a duffle and a tall, floppy haired kid. His baby, a few and Sam, that's all he cared about. All he cared about and now he had lost the most important thing on that list.
Dean cleared his throat, the memories flooding back as he pulled out items from the duffle. Sammy wore this shirt when they hunted a poltergeist in Utah, there was a rip in the right sleeve from where Sam had tripped and caught himself on a tree. Unfortunately, that tree contained thorns. Dean chuckled to himself, remembering how Sam had whined as Dean pulled thorns out of him. Sammy, you knew how to get yourself in trouble. He shuffled clothes around, looking for anything that could give him a clue. Dean pulled out Sam's laptop, a hunk of metal that looked more beat up than Sam after the hunt for a werewolf in Arkansas, which left Sam with a black eye, two broken ribs and a broken wrist. They had gotten him a new one after the car crash, and John's death, yet it still managed to look completely unusable. Yet Sam had used this thing to save lives, and solve cases. Solve cases, of course, Sam used the internet for everything. Dean flipped open the laptop, growling when the battery image flashed on the screen. Dead, of course, like every other good thing in his life, Dean laughed at the irony of the image.
Dean pulled a tangled cord out of the bag, and hooked the laptop up to the nearest outlet. He grabbed his beer and hunkered down next to the outlet, flipping open the laptop, and typing in Sam's password. It was still Sam's birthday, man was this kid trusting, Dean grinned as the computer whirred to life, showing a picture of Sam and him on Dean's 15th birthday, the two of them smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world. Happier times Sammy, happier times. Dean opened the internet and clicked on Sam's history, and bookmarks, looking back to the days when Dean was in hell, and Sam would have been searching for answers.
*Ancient Greek Symbols and Spells* Dean clicked on the link that was bookmarked 2 days after Dean was in hell. A website covered in pictures of Greek gods and goddesses, and lists of symbols. Dean ripped the paper out of his pocket, comparing the various text and drawings. Sammy, even from hell you always had an answer. Dean laughed out loud as he matched some of the symbols. This was it, these were the symbols, this was the writing. This was the key to bringing Sammy home. "I'm coming Sam. I'm gonna get you out of there." Dean practically shouted to the empty garage. He felt sudden tears come to his eyes, "I'm coming Sammy, hang on."