A/N I've never written Mary before (nor did I really care neither here or there about her when they brought her back if I am being honest) so if she seems flat that's probably why.
I hope that you enjoy and don't hate me too much by the end :) Thank you so much for all your support, it does mean the world to me!
Chapter Three
It was just before one in the morning when Dean guided the Impala back into Centerville, his music still playing too loudly.
Despite the good beer, food, and company that he had enjoyed over the past few hours it had still been a long drive back from Hettinger. Long, lonely, and silent with far too much time to think. Dean would always appreciate having Sam in the seat next to him, but nothing quite drove home just what a difference his brother made then drives like this.
They might not have shared a single word on the way back or they might have talked the whole way. Either way, Sam being there would have made all the difference.
Glancing in his rearview mirror, Dean made sure that Cas was still following him before he turned off on the correct road that would take them to the motel. He was going to stop there first, get Cas and Jack situated, and change out of his suit before going to keep Sam company at the funeral home.
Mary had also texted right before they left Hettinger, saying that she was only about two hundred miles away from Centerville and Dean was playing with the idea of waiting at the motel and saying hello first. Part of him was a little peeved that she hadn't even solidified with them that she was indeed coming before just announcing that she was almost there, but he pushed that aside. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was coming.
Pulling into the parking lot, Dean sat there for a second, letting the car idle as Cas pulled into the spot next to him. He could see him and Jack talking and he smiled briefly at both of their clear enthusiasm.
Jack meant so much to Cas, and it was good to see them both so happy. God knew that someone should have that chance.
Taking a deep breath to shake the heavy thoughts that were threatening to settle, Dean clambered out of the car, plastering a smile on his face. The wind was picking up, promising a storm and Dean hoped to hell that they weren't going to have to be out digging up graves or tracking to finish this hunt. That sounded miserable.
"This is us," he said, gesturing at room 117. Jack nodded eagerly, turning to take in the motel.
"And Sam is still at the funeral home?" he asked.
"Unless he's ganked the monster and hitchhiked a ride back. Knowing Sam, I wouldn't put it past him." Dean pulled out the card key and opened the door before ushering Cas and Jack in. The room was dark and silent, and he flipped the light on.
Taking off his suitcoat, Dean tossed it onto the back of the chair that was by the table and then absently shut the lid of Sam's laptop that was still open, even if it wasn't on. Sinking down to sit on the couch, he gave a low groan and lifted his feet to rest on the small coffee table.
"Wow. This is…actually nice," Jack said, looking around the suite.
"Yeah, I know. Not the usual digs. We were hoping that Mom would come down so we paid extra for a nicer room.
Cas turned to look at Dean, a quizzical look on his face. "Charlie set you up with a credit card that could pay for rooms like this regularly, right?" he asked, tipping his head to the side.
Dean opened his mouth and then shut it again with a frown before saying. "I guess. I dunno, Sam and I never thought about it that way. Huh."
Jack moved past him, studying the wall of information that Sam had been putting together the night before. Dean had been adding to it that morning, and maybe he would work on updating it while they waited for Mary to arrive.
Sam would be alright being alone for just a little longer. A stab of guilt went through Dean, but he ignored it. He'd just say hello to Mary, and then he'd go.
"What do you think that it wants with the bodies?" Jack asked as he bent closer, examining the pictures of the victims.
"Probably something gross. To eat them or to use them for spell work or something like that," Dean said, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Jack nodded and went back to reading. Cas, who had come to stand next to Dean, gave a little sigh.
"Jack has been very interested in hunting since he became human," he said softly as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. His tone was thoughtful and maybe hinged on worried. Dean shrugged, giving Jack a long look.
"It's all he knows. For better or for worse, we all raised that kid in this lifestyle. He's just trying to figure out his place now that his powers are gone," he said just as quietly, stealing another glance over at Jack.
"I know." Cas shook his head, still wearing that pinched look, but there wasn't much Dean could do about it unless they all left the life. Right now, that just wasn't even a possibility.
Holding back a yawn, Dean glanced at his watch. Mary would be here soon, and then they would all be together. Well, everyone but Sam would be there.
His conscience twinged again. His brother really didn't deserve to be the only one left out. Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating even as he glanced down at his phone, trying to calculate how long it would actually be until Mary got there. It should only be another twenty or thirty minutes…Sam would understand.
Dean shook his head, embarrassed by his own train of thought. Sam would understand. Hell, he probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash at it even though Dean knew that it would quietly hurt him. Sam deserved better than that.
"Right. I'm going to the funeral home to make sure that Sam is still kicking and isn't drooling over his phone. I think he said that the manager gets in around seven or eight, so we should be back around then."
"Can I come?" Jack asked, looking over excitedly and it made Dean smile. He could once remember a time when he had also been thrilled by hunting and when it hadn't been such a damn heavy responsibility.
"Hell, why not? If Cas is okay with it, that is."
Before Cas had a chance to answer, Dean's phone pinged and he stretched back to the table to grab it. It was Mary, texting the group chat between him, Sam, and her, and Dean sank back down.
"Mom's just pulling into town," he paraphrased out loud. "Says that she should be here in about ten minutes. You know what? I think I'll just wait and go after I've said hello."
Cas turned back around with a small frown, before saying, "I don't think that your mother came to see me."
Dean looked up, his eyebrows raised in a silent, confused, question. Cas made a face and expounded, "She is here to see Sam and you, but that is rather pointless if you are both watching the funeral home. What if Jack and I went to trade places with Sam? He could come back here and then you could both spend time with your mother."
Dean oohed in understanding. "I mean, if Sam's okay with that and Jack's not sick of being around you yet." Dean tossed Jack a smile, who only frowned.
"I do not understand. I like being with Cas very much. He teaches me all sorts of things."
"I know, I know, I was teasing," Dean said hurriedly and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Damned angels.
"Oh. I see." Jack went back to studying the wall and Dean turned back to Cas.
"You sure that you're okay with taking Sam's place? You both just got off a hunt, and have been traveling all day. I didn't invite you over just to shove all our crap onto you. We said that we would do this hunt, and we are going to."
"I am sure," Cas said confidently, before doing that thing with his face that meant that he was choosing his next words carefully. "I have…I haven't been able to do much for Sam or you during the last few months. I wasn't able to free you from Michael or even find you, and thus I was unable to help Sam. But I can do this. I can allow you both to spend time with your mother."
"Cas, you've done more than enough," Dean said, his voice dropping lower with emotion. Even a few years ago, he might not have said it quite that bluntly, but a lot had changed. He was trying to be more open, to be better.
He and Sam were both working on it.
Cas gave him a sad little smile that said that he didn't believe him, but Dean didn't know how to press the issue any further. Words weren't his forte and Dean knew that more than once he'd put his foot in his mouth and hurt his friend deeply.
"I'm going to change before Mom gets here," Dean announced, standing. "Let Mom in if she knocks. She knows the room number."
When he reemerged in a flannel and jeans, both Cas and Jack were studying the wall. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, Dean grabbed his phone from where it was still resting on the arm of the couch.
Pulling up Sam's name—it wasn't hard as his brother was usually the first or second person that he'd most recently texted—he sent over a message.
'Change of plans. Cas and Jack are going to switch you places so that you can come back. They should be there in about twenty minutes, so have your ass in gear and be ready to go.'
Now all that he had to do was wait.
Crossing to the coffee machine, he turned it on. It really was too late for coffee, but he doubted that Mary had driven all this way to just want to go to bed. They'd talk for a couple of hours—he'd feel better afterward—and then they would get some sleep.
Sam wasn't getting coffee, though. He was making sure that Sam got some sleep tonight even if he had to tie him down to the bed and steal his phone.
A knock at the door had him turning around. Setting aside the pot, he crossed to the door and opened it.
"Dean," Mary said, smiling up at him even as she went up onto her tiptoes to hug him. Dean returned it, pulling her in close and breathing her in before releasing her.
"Mary!" Jack said excitedly, coming around them as Dean let her go. Mary blinked in surprise at the sight of him, but that didn't stop the joy from spreading across her face as she hugged him hard as well.
Dean watched it and tried not to let the bitterness that surged up show on his face. Mary and Jack had gotten close while in the alternate world, he knew that, but it didn't stop him wondering sometimes if that was partly because Jack was uncomplicated to her. He was almost like a son that she had adopted and fostered, one whom she hadn't doomed to a life of misery nor abruptly found herself a mother to when they were already grown.
Mary and Cas exchanged smiles as Dean took Mary's bag from her.
"Where's Sam?" she asked, looking around.
"He's on babysitting duty. Cas and Jack were going to go switch spots with him so that he could come back."
Mary nodded.
For a moment, there was an awkward silence.
Dean loved Mary with every fiber of his being and then some, but he was still trying to figure out just how exactly they all fit together, and how to interact with her in the same natural ease that he did with Sam, or even with Cas. Hell, Charlie—their Charlie—had been easier than his own mother.
"Coffee?" he asked at last and Mary nodded gratefully, her hands in her back pockets. Dean moved to the small kitchenette, even as he looked over his shoulder to say to Cas, "Oh, and I texted Sam. He knows that you are coming and what the plan is."
"Good." Cas nodded, digging out his car keys. "And what is the address of the funeral home?"
"Oh, right. That might be important to know."
They spent the next couple of minutes getting Cas situated, before chatting briefly about Jack and Cas's previous hunt, and then they were gone.
It was just him and Mary.
It never stopped being amazing to him that Mary was around once again, even if it had been his reality for a couple of years now. But then again, most of the last year had been spent with Mary gone to the other world and the year before that she had been avoiding them.
No wonder there were still awkward silences.
"So…how was the drive?" Dean asked, handing her a cup of hot coffee and coming to sit down on the couch next to her. Mary sat down as well, bringing one leg up underneath her other as she breathed in the aroma of the coffee."
"Good. It was really nice."
Dean nodded, sipping at the burning liquid. "And Bobby?"
"Good."
Dean nodded again, musing over his words and wondering what to ask next. "You hungry? I think that there's some leftover pizza in the fridge, but we can go out and get something if you want."
"Nah. Don't worry about it, I ate not that long ago and it might be hard to find someplace open." Mary relaxed back into the couch with a sigh. "So…how have things been? Tell me everything. Has there been any progress on Michael's new monsters?"
It was a topic that made Dean's stomach knot up every time, but it was something familiar and Dean launched into it. He was about halfway through the explanation of what Sam and he were currently researching when he was struck by a sudden realization, and he paused.
"Sam didn't answer me," he said, looking for his phone and then standing to grab it from where he had left it by the coffee pot. Mary cocked an eyebrow and Dean explained himself further even as he turned the screen on, half expecting to see a notification with Sam's name on it. "I texted him to let him know that Cas and Jack were coming. He didn't answer me."
"So? He's been pretty busy, and you know it. He's been running around in about four different directions at all times since you went missing."
Mary didn't get it. Sam had been attached to his phone like it was another limb, trying desperately to make sure that everything and everyone was fine. Sam would have seen his text, and his brother would have answered, even if it was just a thumbs-up or an okay.
Something uneasy stirred in Dean's stomach and he tried to push it away. He was overreacting. It was a missed text, nothing else.
Mary seemed to agree with that sentiment as she reached over, covering his arm with her hand and giving him a beatific smile. "Dean, I'm sure that Sam just got another text and forgot to reply to yours. He gets enough of them. Either that or he fell asleep. He's watching cameras and I'm sure that is boring as hell. Put that on top of everything else that he's been trying to do and I, for one, wouldn't be surprised."
Dean knew how hard Sam was working, he knew it better than Mary did. He could see through the cracks in his brother, see how hard he was trying to hold it all together, but he was damn sure that Sam had never let Mary see just how deep it ran and just how drained he was.
Mary tightened her grip.
"Dean, he's fine. And if not, then Cas and Jack will be there to help. He's a grown man and one of the best hunters that I have ever seen. He knows how to look after himself."
"Yeah, I know, I just…" Dean wiped a hand over his face. Sam was hunting. And sure, they didn't expect anything to happen but that didn't mean that it wouldn't. Every day they saw people's lives turned upside down when something went wrong out of the blue.
Pursing his lips, Dean hesitated a second longer before sending a quick, 'You okay?' text.
Sam would answer that one. Even if he had gotten so caught up in everything else that he had forgotten to answer the first one, he wouldn't ignore that. Hell, even if they were so pissed off at each other that they weren't talking they answered that kind of inquiry. Sam was anything but pissed at him right now, even if he should be. Instead, he was going out of his way to make sure that Dean was okay. He'd answer that.
Dean stared at his phone a moment, waiting for it to vibrate with an incoming message, before turning to face Mary with some effort.
"So…how have things been for you and Bobby? The cabin workin' out okay?"
Mary relaxed a little, sinking back into the couch cushions. "It's been good. Really good. Bobby and I have been watching a lot of TV and reading. Just catching up on everything, you know? I think that it has been really good for him. He seems happier, at least."
"Good. Great." Dean offered another weak smile before rubbing a hand over his face. "What, ah, shows are you watching?"
Mary hesitated a moment and then began a shallow explanation that trailed off after only a minute. Dean didn't have the energy to keep the conversation going, and silence fell.
It was overwhelming and after a moment Dean surged to his feet and rocked back on his heels, fighting the urge to pace.
If Sam wasn't answering him for some stupid reason, then Dean was going to raise hell and then some with him.
Mary didn't seem to know what to say and Dean gave in to the temptation to pace a tight line to the coffee pot and back. There was nothing for it. He wasn't going to rest easy, not until Sam responded. He'd been in this business too long to let something like this slide. Bad things could happen even on the least dangerous of hunts.
Shaking his head, he called Sam and listened as it rang and rang and rang until flipping over to voicemail.
His concern skyrocketed and he swore quietly. He stood there a moment with his hands on his hips as he made his decision.
"I'm going after him," he said abruptly, turning towards the door.
Mary also stood. "Woah, hold up there, Dean. There is no reason to panic yet."
"He's on a hunt, and he's not answering his damn phone," Dean protested, gesturing with his own.
"I know, I know, but it's only been what? Half an hour since you first tried to text him? Two minutes since the last time and not even that since you tried to call? That's no reason to freak out yet. Let's just give it another ten minutes or so before we go breaking down the door. Sam wouldn't want us to get freaked out by nothing. He'd take offense at that," she said.
Dean chewed on his lower lip and shook his head. She was wrong. Sam wouldn't take offense. Sam wasn't that easy to offend especially not over something like this.
"Dean, give it five minutes. You haven't even really given him a chance to call you back. Five more minutes, and then we'll go. I promise."
He wavered for a moment, debating the outcomes in his head.
"Cas and Jack probably just got there and more than likely he's talking to them. Five minutes, Dean, and then we can go."
Dean hesitated for another long moment before nodding. "Okay. Five minutes—that's it," he said roughly. As soon as he said it, he regretted doing so but Mary was patting the couch next to her, indicating that he should sit.
"Why don't you tell me about this hunt?" she said, giving him that smile again and Dean felt a sudden surge of frustration and anger.
He felt like he was talking to his dad again with the hunt being the answer to anything and everything. He'd never stood up to his dad, and right now wasn't the time to do so with his mom either, so he simply kept his tone flat as he said, "Bodies have been disappearing from a funeral home. Sam wanted to look into it."
"Right," Mary said, nodding along. "And what makes you think that it's not some whacky human taking bodies for who knows what? It wouldn't be the first time."
"Sam—ah, Sam said that it's his gut instinct that this is our kind of thing, and he usually has pretty damn good instincts, so..."
"And Sam was going to the funeral home because…?" Mary prompted after a long moment of silence.
"Because they brought in a body today. The funeral isn't until Friday, but the owner wanted police protection, and Sammy wasn't about to let anyone else walk into something potentially monstrous. I offered to stay with him, but he wanted me to go to Hettinger, to talk with the hospital myself." Now that Dean said it out loud, it sounded like a weak excuse. Why had he let Sam talk him into going?
Mary nodded along even as Dean glanced at his watch, his guts curling with unease.
The ringing of a phone a moment later startled Dean and he grabbed for his, expecting to see Sam's name there, but the screen was dark.
Mary was fumbling out her phone.
"Is it Sam?" Dean asked tightly, sitting forward only to have Mary shake her head.
"No, it's Travis," she said before answering it and leaving Dean to wonder who the hell Travis was. She was silent for a moment, listening, before saying. "Yeah, I can help. Did you try—No, I'm—uh-huh. Yeah, I'm actually with Dean right now and have been waiting to hear from him. We'll give Sam a call again, and then call you right—"
Dean leaned forward, yanking the phone out of her hand. "You tryin' to get a hold of Sam?" he asked briskly, not caring that he was being rude.
There was a pause on the other end. "Dean?" The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure he could put a face to it. He just hadn't invested the time to get to know Sam's hunters, and they hadn't seemed interested in getting to know him.
"Yeah. Why are you trying to get ahold of Sam? It's almost three in the morning, you don't need him." And Dean really didn't like the implications that no one was being able to reach Sam.
"I don't know if that's any of your business, buddy," Travis said tightly and Dean snorted out a laugh.
"If it's about Sam, then you better damn well bet that I'm making it my business. You shouldn't be trying to reach him at all hours of the day."
"Sam said to call if we need anything," Travis responded stubbornly, "And thus far he hasn't had an issue with it. Give the phone back to Mary. I have to talk with her."
Dean snapped, anger making his voice harsh. "Yeah, Sam might have said that, but that doesn't mean that you actually do it! Haven't you guys put Sam through enough? He's killing himself trying to help you, you do realize that, right? Yet you're still taking advantage of his generosity—" Dean hurriedly stood, putting himself out of reach of Mary as she scrambled to get her phone back from him. She stood as well, attempting to pull his arm down but Dean just shrugged her off, continuing his tirade. "—calling him at two in the freaking morning and expecting him to jump at your every need and solve all your problems. It's no wonder that he doesn't get any damn sleep or forgets to eat. You guys survived a war and yet you can't even figure out a ghost from a ghoul. How is Sam supposed—"
Mary finally succeeded in wrenching the phone from him and gave him a dark glare. "Travis—" she said quickly, turning her back on Dean. "Don't take what Dean said…" she trailed off, listening but Dean turned away with a scoff. He didn't give a rat's ass what Travis thought of him.
"Look, I'll call you right back. I'm sorry," Mary said behind him and then hung up, tossing the phone onto the couch.
"Dean—" She reprimanded sharply, turning on him but Dean just shrugged, looking at his watch. Sam's five minutes were just about over and then he was going to raise hell. "Dean, look at me." Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he did clench his jaw as he half-turned to face her. "Travis was trying to help, you didn't need to turn on him like that."
"Whatever." Dean crossed to the other side of the room where his jacket was waiting and shrugged into it.
Mary's gaze softened a little, her shoulders dropping. "Dean, he was worried about Sam. That is why he called. He said that Sam hasn't answered any of his calls or texts for the last couple of hours and he just wanted to know if I'd heard from him."
Dean froze for a millisecond, feeling like a boulder had been dropped into his stomach before wrenching his coat on. "Why didn't he lead with that? Son of a bitch, something's wrong. Something is really, really, wrong and I need to get to Sam."
#
Jack had a flashlight out and directed at one of the folders that he had taken from the motel room table, trying to read as Cas drove.
"And what do you think would be interested in dead humans?" he asked, looking up and over at Cas. Cas frowned a little.
"I'm not sure. Witches, maybe? And don't forget ghouls. They like to eat humans."
Jack smiled. "I will never forget ghouls. They were my first real hunt."
Cas smiled in a way that made Jack feel warm inside. "That was an interesting experience, one I don't think that I can forget either. Dean forced me to wear a cowboy hat."
Jack laughed, looking back at the folder. His smile faded a little. The security guard who had died that day still haunted Jack. He hadn't meant to do that, hadn't meant to kill him…and maybe it was good that his powers were gone.
He couldn't save anyone, but he couldn't kill them either.
Rubbing at his chest, he suppressed a cough. Without his powers, he was going to die. Maybe sooner rather than later if he didn't stop coughing up blood. When that happened was he going to end up in hell? He was Lucifer's son after all, and had hurt people.
Jack shook the thoughts off with a shudder. He was fine. Everything was going to be fine, he just had to keep going, keep working, and help as many people as he could.
That was what Sam and Cas did when things got hard. Dean too.
So he would just wait and see. Maybe he was just getting a cold or something equally as embarrassing. No reason to worry anyone just yet, and, even if it was, he was going to spend all the time that he could with those that he loved and helping others.
That was something else his family—his real family, not Lucifer—had taught him.
"Are you alright?" Cas shot him a sideways, pensive, look. Cas was hard to fool, but Jack forced the smile back onto his face all the same.
"Just tired—" Another lie, one that he had learned from Sam over the past few months, "And I was thinking. Why are they taking the bodies from the funeral home, instead of waiting to dig them up after they were buried? Sam and Dean do that all the time."
Cas coughed, smothering what sounded like a laugh. "I don't know. It could be there is some sort of timetable of when they need the bodies, or maybe they just don't want to do the digging that would be required. I have often wondered at the motives behind different creatures' habits, but rarely have I been given a suitable answer. Sometimes creatures just do things because with no reason behind it."
Jack nodded, thinking this through before glancing down at the phone that was on his knee. "You're supposed to turn left at the next stoplight," he said reading the directions off the map that he had pulled up.
He continued to give directions, and it was only a few minutes later they were pulling up to the funeral home and pulling around to park in the half-circle driveway.
The funeral home was quiet.
All the lights inside were off, but the streetlight illuminated the driveway. It looked empty, but that was how it was supposed to look, Jack reminded himself as he tucked the file underneath his arm and got out.
It smelled like rain—and the gathering clouds overhead promised it—and he breathed it in as deep as he could without provoking a coughing fit. Cas's door closed and then he was headed towards the door. The wind was cutting and cold, and Jack shivered, pulling his coat closer around him as he followed.
They made their way up to the front steps and to the door. Cas knocked, and they stood there for a minute, waiting for Sam to come and open it. Jack shuffled a little, burrowing further into his coat in an effort to keep warm, and glanced up at the sky. The clouds obscured the moon and most of the stars.
"I don't think that he heard us," he said. Cas nodded in agreement and knocked louder. After another long moment of silence, Cas shook his head and pulled out his phone.
"I'm going to try calling him," he said and Jack nodded, wishing that Sam would hurry up and open up the door already. It was bound to be warmer in there than it was out here.
Cas was silent as he waited for the call to connect and then he was shaking his head and lowering the phone with a frown. "He didn't answer. Maybe he left the door unlocked…" There was a worried tone in Cas's voice now and unease sparked in Jack's chest.
Cas shouldn't be worried. There was nothing to be worried about.
Only, Cas had frozen next to him, his hand wrapped around the door handle and an almost comical look of surprise on his face. He pulled his hand back and Jack's whole stomach dropped.
His hand was spotted heavily in blood as was the underside of the metal handle as if someone had grabbed it with bloody hands to close it.
"Cas, what does—"
"Shh," Cas insisted probably pointlessly even as he let his angel blade slide into his hand. They had already been knocking. If anyone was inside then they already knew that they were here.
"Get behind me," Cas ordered sharply even as Jack fumbled his knife out, the unease creeping up his throat even as he tried to push it back down. This was a hunt. This was supposed to be exciting. It might have been if Sam hadn't been in there somewhere and not answering.
Grabbing the door handle again, Cas pushed and the door swung open easily, already unlocked. Jack's stomach tightened. He didn't have to be told that that wasn't good.
It was eerily quiet in the room and Jack moved to take a step forward, but Cas threw out an arm, keeping him a step behind.
There was a light switch right by the door, and after a moment of hesitation, Cas reached over and flicked it on, flooding the room with light. Jack wished that he hadn't.
Blood heavily spotted the lobby floor and someone had carelessly stepped in one or more of the puddles at some point. Crimson footprints dotted the lobby and the stairs, showing a haphazard path across the room.
Jack lurched back when he realized that he was half standing on a very faint one that led outside.
"SAM!" Cas had apparently given up on silence as he took another step into the room, gripping the angel blade tighter.
There was no answer and Jack's insides were twisting together painfully. "SAM!?" he called as well. No answer came.
Cas turned to him with a sudden sense of urgency.
"We have to find Sam. Something evil has been here, I can feel it. It could have taken him or left him injured somewhere and he may need our help. I think that whatever was here has left, but we can't know that for sure. You must be careful. If anything feels wrong, even in the slightest, then you come and get me. Even if you find Sam and he's hurt, but it doesn't feel right, you come and get me first, do you understand?" he asked harshly.
"Yes," Jack said, his mouth dry. This wasn't how the evening was supposed to go.
"Good. You take upstairs, I'll take the main floor and the downstairs. Be careful, and keep your phone on you."
Jack nodded and turned to face the stairs.
He wasn't an idiot; he knew why Cas wanted him to take the upstairs. There were two sets of footprints there, the first one going up and the second going down. Even on the off chance that whoever had done this was still here, it probably wasn't upstairs. Cas was trying to protect him and for once Jack didn't mind.
He didn't want to find anything bad or get jumped by something, not when his hair was already standing on end and he felt on edge.
Cas was already moving hurriedly away, heading towards where the footsteps were most distinct. Jack glanced once more around the gory room, his stomach in his throat, before heading for the stairs and trying to avoid stepping in any blood.
He could hear Cas calling for Sam again from downstairs, and Jack picked up the pace. The quicker they found Sam, the quicker they could get out of here. "Sam?!" he called as well, trying to open the first door. It was locked, and the flaking footsteps led past it, towards the last room on the right.
Swallowing thickly to keep his stomach where it was supposed to be, Jack inched forward, holding his knife hard enough that his fingers were starting to hurt. If he still had his powers then maybe…but no. For better or for worse he didn't have them and all that he could depend upon was himself.
The last door was hanging half open and Jack took a deep breath. Sam needed help, and Jack didn't have time to be nervous.
"Sam?" he called again pushing the door open all the way even as his heart pounded against his ribs but it didn't matter.
The room was empty, although Sam had clearly been in what looked like the office at some point. His jacket had been tossed over the back of the chair, and his tie was lying across it.
Someone else had been here as well and had taken it upon themselves to destroy everything that they could.
Files had been scattered everywhere and it looked like the computer had been smashed into pieces. What turned Jack's stomach the most, though, were the smears of blood that covered everything. Some of the papers even had what looked to be fingerprints across them, as if someone had rifled through them with bloody hands.
In the dead silence the sound of a phone ringing, even though it was quiet, made Jack jump and he swiveled around, blade out and looking for someone to attack. Nothing was there, but the phone continued to buzz angrily and Jack sheathed his knife before looking around for it.
It wasn't on the desk, and it wasn't in Sam's suitcoat pockets when he checked. Moving around the desk, he continued his search as the phone quit buzzing. Dropping down onto his knees, he looked under the desk. He didn't find anything there and looked to the other side.
There, just underneath an old radiator that was in the corner, was a phone. Sam's phone. Jack bent down further, stretching to grab it. It must have been on the desk or in the way, because the back of the phone had spiderweb fissures in the case like it had been stepped on or thrown, and the screen itself was shattered at the bottom left corner, with the cracks continuing up the rest of the screen.
A sudden wave of hot tears pressed up against Jack's eyes, and he had to fight them back. He didn't think that Sam was here anymore. Sam was missing. Sam wouldn't just leave his phone lying around like that and seeing it thrown so carelessly aside made it hit home that Sam probably wasn't okay. He might be seriously hurt somewhere—he could be dying—and they didn't know.
Sam had to be fine. He was always fine, even when everyone else was falling apart, he was fine.
Brushing bits of glass off of Sam's phone, he turned it on. To his surprise, the lock screen came on without an issue, although certain parts of the screen had morphed into green splotches.
Sam had several new notifications and Jack squinted, trying to read what was there between the cracks.
There were a handful of missed calls—the most recent one was from Dean—along with a couple of missed texts and calls from Travis along with a handful of other unread messages from other hunters. Dean had texted as well, and Jack's stomach did an odd flip-flop as he hesitated. He knew that he probably shouldn't, but then he pushed it away and swiped down so that he could read them.
The first one was Dean explaining that Cas and Jack were coming over, and the second was a simple 'You okay?'. Even as Jack held the phone it buzzed, and another text from Dean popped up.
Call me. Now.
Jack didn't like this.
Feeling faintly ill, he stood up, examining the trashed room and the smears of blood with increasing horror. Something very dangerous had come in here and Sam had been completely alone.
The phone began to vibrate in his hands and Jack closed his eyes before glancing down at the screen.
Dean was calling again.
Jack's stomach was doing summersaults and he didn't dare answer the phone. There was no way that he was going to do that, not until he knew for sure that Sam was missing and not somewhere in the funeral home. Even then, he didn't think that he could do it, not with Dean. He couldn't tell him that.
Dean loved him—Jack knew that—but he could also be mean when he wanted to be. When Dean himself was scared or hurting he became someone different and scary. Jack didn't like that Dean. He would never forget his first few weeks alive, of Dean telling him that he was going to be evil and that he wanted nothing more than to see him dead. Even if he had forgiven Dean for his harsh words and treatment against him, it would forever haunt him. He still had to strive for his respect and to please him like he didn't have to with Cas or Sam.
He didn't want to talk to that Dean again.
Gripping the phone tightly, he stared at Dean's name that had taken over the screen and just wished that he'd stop calling. Cas could handle this better than he could and Jack hurriedly turned from the trashed room.
There was nothing else here that was important and he needed to find Cas. It was also possible that he had found Sam downstairs and then they would have some news that they could give Dean.
"Cas?" he yelled as he made his way hurriedly down the narrow stairs, clutching Sam's phone in his hands and praying that Dean didn't call again until they knew something.
#
Cas watched just long enough to ensure that Jack was going up the stairs before turning towards the last door on the left. It was hanging open awkwardly, and no doubt whatever fight had been started in the lobby had carried through into that room.
"Sam?" He called in a low voice as he entered, the room feeling more confined than the lobby had been. He flicked on the light as well, bathing the room in a warm yellow glow.
This room was bloody as well and Cas was glad that Jack had gone upstairs without a fight. There was still no answer from Sam—and Cas was hoping that it was because Sam was gagged or perhaps unconscious because that was better than any other alternative he could think of—but his knife lay abandoned on the floor.
Picking it up, Cas tucked it into his pocket for safekeeping as his concern increased exponentially. He'd been a warrior long enough to know that scenes like this hardly ever led to good things but he didn't want to give up hope. Maybe it was possible that Sam wasn't here anymore because he had left of his own volition. He might have needed to seek medical aid or had fled when he realized that he was outmatched.
The room was colder than the other areas of the funeral home and Cas looked around to see the shattered remains of a glass door. The wind was blowing the curtains back and forth, lifting them up and off the floor. Cas immediately headed in that direction.
Ducking under the remaining jagged pieces of glass, Cas stepped through the door. It triggered what was surely a motion sensor and floodlights came on, illuminating a small garden.
It looked like it was meant to be a peaceful place for people to come and mourn, but that wasn't what it was now. Cas felt his breath catch in his chest as he took in the scene around him. The cement patio and the surrounding dying grass were covered in blood—too much blood—but that wasn't what had drawn his attention.
Sam was lying stretched out on the patio. His back was to Cas with his head tilted forward and cushioned on an arm that had been outstretched awkwardly in front of him.
He was resting in a literal pool of blood and his white shirt had been saturated with it.
"Sam!" Cas strode forward, his heart in his throat as glass crunched underneath his feet. Dropping onto his knees, he grabbed Sam's shoulder and rolled him easily over onto his back to face him. His hand was already out to provide whatever healing was no doubt in order but he froze, his hands jerking back like he had been burned.
Sam was cold to the touch and his eyes were open, staring sightlessly ahead.
"No."
Cas shook his head in denial and he bent forward pressing two of his fingers against Sam's forehead.
Nothing happened.
"No," he protested more intently. Not Sam Winchester. Not like this.
Changing his position, he laid his palm flat against Sam's forehead and channeled everything that he had into Sam, into healing him, but it was no use.
Sam's soul wasn't there for him to tether and tie back to his body, and Cas wasn't strong enough to pull it back from wherever the reapers had taken it. He hadn't been strong enough in years now, but maybe…if he just…Cas tried again desperately, willing life back into Sam, willing his soul to return to his body.
Nothing changed.
Sam's heart refused to start beating and Cas drew back with the dawning and horrible realization...Sam Winchester was dead.
