Sorry for taking so long on this I had some technical difficulties then after writing this chapter for the third time I decided to scrap it and write from Dean's point of view, don't worry there will be tons of Jo comforting Dean to come it's just I felt this would be more interesting to find out about Sam's disappearance from Dean's perspective.
I will try to get back on schedule with posting on Wednesday's but college is kinda priority so we will see.
I did write a little unexpected Weechester in this chapter so be prepared for little Dean (John isn't going to be a horrible father, bad yes but not horrible haha)
This chapter is from Dean's POV.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
I hope you all enjoy.
I am looking for a Beta-reader so if you're interested please shoot me a pm.
The pain hit him like a truck, fast and unrelenting, all of it, the stab wounds, the bruises that made even breathing a painful experience, all of it was a dull ache compared to the feeling in his stomach telling him something was wrong, really wrong. Dean took a steadying breath, before slowly opening his eyes, clenching his fists tightly as he tried to prepare himself for the worse.
He could barely contain his surprise when instead of harsh light or the leering face of a bloodthirsty monster he found himself alone in the dark. "Sam?" Dean groaned his head pounding, minutes passed with no reply, "Sammy?" he said a little louder panic entering the hunter's chest.
Okay, no Sam, no reason to panic yet, the kid's probably getting supplies or gone to get some grub, Dean reasoned trying to tune out the tiny voice in his head already coming up with worst case scenarios to where the young Winchester was.
The stabbing pain in Dean's side brought him back to reality, "SDEPR Dean, come on focus," the hunter mumbled remembering the acronym his father had taught him at the tender age of ten.
It had been a nice spring morning just him and his Dad in the woods doing a little shooting practice, while Sam was sick with the flu at Pastor Jim's. Dean was proudly carrying four bullet hole ridden soda cans back to the car intending to show Sam his impressive marksmanship when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Dean- wait I need to teach you something very important," John said steering his eldest son to a nearby log his gruff exterior wavering a second as his son's previous grin turned into a look of concern. "You know that what I do can get dangerous right?" John continued taking a seat on the rotten wood.
Dean nodded following his Dad's lead and joining him on the log the cans lying forgotten by his feet.
"Well, there is something you need to remember if you ever wake up in an unfamiliar place, remember SDEPR" John said taking out his journal and jotting the acronym on an empty page as Dean watched over his shoulder curiously.
"SDEPR- what's that?" Dean asked cocking his head.
"A checklist" John replied.
"Sam," Dean grunted again pain shooting through his body as he propped himself up against the headboard causing him to see stars as the bruises forming on his back pressed against the hardwood. Okay, still no Sam but that means he could be fine Dean reminded himself, forcing the image of his baby brother bleeding out somewhere out of his mind. Taking a deep breath Dean glanced around the dark room, in the gloom, it appeared to be empty, good that meant he wasn't being watched or at least he wasn't in grave danger, but where was he, that was the next question he needed to answer.
"Now Dean knowing where you are is important but knowing where you aren't is crucial, you need to know what kind of environment you're in and by ruling out possibilities, like hospital, motel, or jail-" John said, jotting down Sam, Danger, and Environment, Physical Condition, and Recollection next to the corresponding letters.
Dean grinned at the last option, he had a hard time picturing himself in jail, if the cops were as dumb as Dad said there was no way they would ever catch him.
Dean grimaced through the years he had proved himself wrong, he had been caught, several times, sometimes just pulled into questioning and other times for actual crimes that he had to be bailed out for; apparently, he wasn't as smart as he thought. Shaking his head Dean accessed his situation jail was unlikely; the bed was too comfortable and was void of the usual unpleasant aromas. The hospital would have been a good guess except it was too quiet, usually, hospitals were loud, people crying, screaming, and the annoying beep of a heart monitor, but the room was dead silent, besides if he was in the hospital Sam would be by his side. That left motel which was perfectly fine with him, motels, although dirty and not the most comfortable places to sleep were at least safe and as Dean slid down the headboard he decided he needed that, laying back down flat on his back he closed his eyes exhausted, but determined to finish the task at hand before passing out.
Feeling himself start to slip into unconsciousness Dean's eyes snapped open, he couldn't fall asleep yet and risk potentially bleeding out or slipping into a coma because of an unchecked concussion, taking a breath he started to take a survey of his physical condition. His legs felt okay and he could feel heavy denim press on a bending knee, which indicated that wherever he was nobody was looking to steal his pants and he had probably sustained a couple of minor scraps if anything, moving up he examined his torso with only a shaky hand he winced, when his hand brushed up against what felt like several painful bruises on his stomach and chest.
Son of a Bitch, a pained gasp escaped his chapped lips having just found the gash on his side, someone had bandaged it up, but even with the heavy gauze, the long gash radiated heat, not a great sign Dean thought miserably struggling to keep his eyes open.
Dean was just about given up on consciousness when he heard the door creak open, "Sammy?" he ventured his eyes remained closed as he heard the familiar click of a lamp switch.
"Not quite Dean-o," a woman's voice replied as the bed shifted and a cool hand pressed against his sweaty forehead.
"Jo? What- what are you doing here, did Sam call? Dean asked opening his eyes, ever-present concern for his brother's safety, gnawing at the back of his mind.
"So I guess this means you don't remember huh," the honey blonde jested as she reached over to the nightstand where a glass of water and two bright red pills laid waiting, next to a small pack of alcohol swabs and stitch kit.
"Remember what?" Dean asked propping himself up against the headboard, careful not to disturb the bruises as much this time.
"Figures- you were pretty out of it when I found you, "Jo said handing the cool glass and pills to the hunter.
Dean took a sip suppressing a sigh as he swallowed the pain relief capsules; slowly he started to remember bits and pieces from the past couple hours, a redhead woman yelling at him, the conversation about vampires, Jo in all her glory yanking the Impala door open- "Jo where's my brother?" he finally asked
"Dean- I- I hate to tell you this but-um- Sam's missing" Jo muttered looking away, her hand unconsciously brushing his.
Dean's stomach dropped, his blood turned to ice, as he tried to compose himself, tried to act like this wasn't the worst news he'd heard since Dad died. "Dumb kid, did he drop me off and go back?" Dean growled the words burning in his throat, he knew that even Sam, in all his 'gotta save 'em all' mentality, would never leave him at least not like this.
"Not exactly, he wasn't with you, period," Jo stated taking the half-empty glass from the trembling hunter, placing it back on the nightstand.
"What do you mean, he wasn't with me, I wouldn't leave my brother to fight fangs by himself, are you crazy."
"I know that look all I know is that when I found you bleeding out, you were alone" Jo whispered trying to keep the agitated Winchester calm.
"Jo, Hand me the stitches," Dean grunted struggling to get free from the bloodstained blanket.
Jo cocked a brow "What are you going to do?" she asked, already knowing what the determined hunter was going to say.
"I'm going to go find my brother and kick his ass for disappearing, and although getting blood out of upholstery is fun I would rather I not bleed everywhere when I find him," he snapped back.
"Like hell you are- Dean you're burning up, just take a rest, it won't do Sam any good if you're dead" Jo murmured placing a hand on the man's chest.
Dean glared at the blonde "Jo, I've done more with worse, just let me do this,"
"No, I'm not letting you kill yourself, Mom and Ash have been checking nearby hospitals and morgues, nothings come up, but don't worry we're still looking," Jo soothed reaching for his calloused hand her annoyed look melting into one of concern.
"Jo, I'll be fine, please" the request felt odd coming out of his mouth like he was a little kid again asking for another slice of pie and although he wanted to keep arguing the issue he stopped struggling. Dean wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion that changed his mind or just Jo, but before he could say anything he was lying flat again, and a second pillow was placed behind his head.
The next hour was a blur of red hair and pain, Doc had come almost immediately after the yelling had stopped to help stitch him up, Jo staying behind, to keep Dean still as the harsh needle sewed his flesh back together.
After the long procedure and after Doc had left to wash up, the two were left in tense silence, "Dean we're going to find him you know that right," Jo whispered her thumb rubbing small circles on the drowsy hunter's bloody knuckle.
"I know, Jo, I know" Dean whispered as his eyelids slipped shut.
I know guys and I'm sorry-not-sorry but we will eventually find out where the elusive moose is