A/N To get this up at a somewhat-not-really decent time, I did skip one of my editing steps (which was probably a bad idea but I did it anyway) so if there are more mistakes than normal, this is why...
Also, just a heads up, I'm not going to be posting next week but I promise that I will be back the following week. I have a new nephew that I need to go see, the next two chapters are my 'sticky' spots that need a little bit of TLC, and (do with this information as you will) but we are to the halfway mark in the story so I figured that now was as good a time as any to take a week off.
Thank you again for all the reviews, they truly do mean the world to me!
Chapter Six
Dean didn't move from Sam's side until his flask was empty.
Prying himself out of the chair, he dragged himself out into the main room and headed straight for the small fridge and the bottle of whiskey that he put in there when they'd first arrived.
"Dean," Jack said in what might have been a mix of relief and fear as he unwound himself from the couch. He stood straight, staring at Dean with an earnest expression even as he twisted his hands together.
Dean nodded at him. It was the most that he could manage right then and he proceeded to the fridge. Pulling out a bottle of whiskey, he unscrewed the top with unsteady hands and then closed his eyes as he took a long swallow.
It wasn't doing much to mask the pain in his chest but it did help with the shakiness.
"Have you heard anything from Mom or Cas?" he asked, before bringing the bottle to his lips once more. It had been hours, hadn't it? Shouldn't Jack have heard something?
Jack shook his head in the negative and Dean gestured with the bottle. "Call them. I wanna—" Dean stopped, his breath hitching. "I want to make sure that they're okay."
If that thing had been able to take down Sam then it would probably be able to do the same to Mom or Cas. They could be dead now as well.
Jack's eyes got comically wide as he made the same leap and he fumbled out his phone. He called Cas, putting the phone on speaker so that Dean could hear as it began to ring.
"Jack?" Cas picked up almost immediately and Jack smiled in relief, looking over at Dean.
"Dean and I were just checking in. Wanted to make sure that you were okay," he explained as Dean moved in closer, still clutching the bottle.
"We're fine. We are actually about to pull back into Centerville, we should be back to the motel in about fifteen or twenty minutes. We have news."
"Good or bad?" Dean asked, clenching the neck of the bottle tighter.
"Good. Or, at least the information is good. We know who the bitch is," Mary chimed in. "Not only did the tox scans return that all the victims were spiked with abnormally large amounts of insulin, but one nurse was on duty and attended to every single victim, except one. And even for that one, we have footage of her slipping into the patient's room before the victim died."
Jack leaned forward, trying to share an excited look with Dean, but Dean didn't have the desire to return it. That didn't change the fact that Sam was dead. Nothing was going to change that, not unless—but no.
Nothing was going to change it.
"That's good, though. Right? That means we know who killed Sam?" Jack asked for Dean.
"Yes. Her name is Scott, Hayley Scott. But there is more to this than that, don't forget. We may know who it is, but we still don't know what she is or if she is working alone. She is extremely dangerous, and she should be treated as much," Cas cautioned.
Dean snorted, rubbing wearily at his face. "I'm not letting Jack go off by himself, don't worry." The words felt flat, but Dean couldn't put any real emotion or energy in them. It just wasn't there.
"Jack's not the one I was worried about," Cas said dryly and Dean made a face. He knew that he was the one they were all concerned about going off the deep end, but they didn't need to be concerned about that just yet.
Sam was still around to tether him and make him sane. Once they burned his body…well, then it might be a different story.
Cas continued. "But we know more than we did so hopefully we can do some more research on her and that will lead us to an answer about what she is and how to kill her."
Research. It always led back to more research, didn't it? Sam would have been thrilled, but Dean didn't think that he had the mental capacity for that right now. Jack was looking at him, waiting for him to answer but Dean couldn't muster one. There wasn't anything to say.
"Good. That sounds good," Jack said awkwardly and Dean wished that he'd stop looking at him like he was a bomb that was about to go off. "We could also—"
Whatever they could also do Dean never found out.
The sound of shattering glass in the bedroom drowned it out and Dean frowned.
"Sam—" he breathed out as the bottle slipped from his fingers and crashed to the ground. Jack leaped up as well, following Dean as he bolted for the bedroom door.
They were seconds too slow.
The door slammed shut, allowing them only a brief glimpse of a woman in bloody scrubs. Dean tucked his shoulder in and hit the closed door forcefully in an attempt to break it down.
The wood buckled but held firm. The deadbolt latched with a soft snitch, leaving Sam alone with who could only be Hayley Scott.
Dean hadn't thought that he couldn't feel worse than he had, but he had been wrong. He had been so wrong. Terror was coursing through his heart and into his veins and he didn't think that he was even breathing.
She had Sam, she was going to take him and then Dean would never get him back.
"Sam—!" Dean bellowed, thumping a hand hard against the door before backing up a step and attempting to kick it in. The door bent inwards but didn't fully give. Dean growled, low and lethal, before kicking it in with everything that he had.
The bitch wasn't getting Sam.
The latch gave way under the pressure and Dean thrust his way in with a grunt.
"Stay back," he had the presence of mind to shout at Jack before he took in the scene before him.
Hayley was already halfway across the room and headed towards the shattered window with Sam's body draped over one shoulder.
"No!" Dean charged forward, diving at Hayley. He caught her hard around the waist and brought all three of them down to the ground. Hayley grunted as her head bounced off the wooden floor.
Sam didn't make a sound. He wouldn't be making any ever again.
Hayley snarled underneath him. Her face was mangled, no doubt Sam's work, and he might have been proud under any other circumstance. She thrust a hand towards Dean's chest, trying to push him off of her. If she had a better angle, she might have been able to do so but Dean just grabbed her hand and used it to roll both of them away from Sam.
"Jack, get Sam!" he yelled and, now that Sam was taken care of, he let the rage that had been simmering under the grief boil to the surface so hot and bright that it left him breathless.
She had killed Sam, she was the one who had robbed him of everything.
Finding himself on top, he wrapped both hands around her throat, determined to strangle her. She gasped and Dean squeezed harder, determined to suck the very life out of her. One of her hands smacked against the floor desperately but Dean didn't let up.
She'd killed Sam. She's ruined everything.
Her other hand came up and she slammed the heel of her palm into his chest with a force that no human should have. It loosened his hold and another in quick succession sent him tumbling back to land on his ass.
Clambering upright, Dean changed tactics and lunged for the gun that he knew was under his pillow. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jack had hooked his hands underneath Sam's armpits and was starting to drag him back.
Sam was okay and as long as Sam was okay, then he would be fine.
Hayley had seen it as well and, ungracefully rolling onto her feet, she started towards Jack.
There was no way in hell that Dean was letting her get Sam.
Snapping his gun up, he fired off two shots in quick succession. He had hurried to get them off, and the first one hit Hayley's side while the other missed completely, burying itself into the wall.
Hayley spun around with a hiss, wobbling badly as she brought a hand up to the bloody hole in her scrubs. Dean took the second of inattention to slip between her and Sam and aimed the gun firmly at her chest. "Not another step, bitch."
She shook her head, a pained laugh leaving her. "Haven't any of you idiots learned that's not going to do anything?" she said, her mangled lip lifting in a snarl of disgust. Dean had thought as much, hell, even the others had said as much. If bullets had been able to kill her then Sam would have already put her six feet under but he tightened his grip on the handle all the same.
"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it's going to hurt like hell."
With a shriek and speed that she should not have had considering that he had just shot her, she tried to sprint around him, her eyes still locked on Sam's body. Dean barely managed to catch a handful of her hair as she went past and he yanked hard, forcing her to stumble backward.
He did not expect her to spin around him with a pained shriek, leaving him with nothing more than a handful of hair. She darted past him almost quicker than he could follow Dean only just managed to snap out an arm, catching her around the waist. Using her momentum, he bodily forced her back, ramming her up against the wall hard enough that the one generic picture there fell off with a crash.
Rearing back, she smashed her head into his. Stars burst in front of his eyes and then she was ripping herself from his grip. Grabbing two handfuls of his shirt, she spun him around and slammed him up against the wall in her place.
Pinning him there with one hand against his chest, she used her other hand to grab a fistful of his hair. Dragging his head roughly to the side, she exposed his neck. Dean gasped raggedly, trying to look over her shoulder and see if Sam was okay, if Jack had gotten him to safety.
Hayley hissed, increasing her weight on him and he grunted. "Aren't you going to invite me out for dinner first?" he asked, his voice breathless, as he twisted, trying to dislodge her hold.
It didn't work, and Hayley laughed at his attempts. She rotated her head back, and then her jaw caved inwards, allowing a set of fangs to drop down. Or rather what was supposed to be as one fang was intact, but the other one was only half there.
Dean choked out a laugh, furious pride, anger, and pain all swelling together. "Sam did that to you, didn't he?"
She let out a scream, her eyes dancing with anger and Dean laughed again although it turned into a strangled grunt when she twisted his head further to the side until it was getting hard to breathe.
Bending forward, she went to sink the intact fang into his jugular and Dean braced himself for the worst, but to his surprise it was Hayley who jerked back, screaming in pain before she had even touched his throat.
Jack had come up behind her and driven a knife deep into her back.
Releasing Dean, she spun around and shoved Jack with both hands, sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Stop doing that," she repeated furiously as she advanced on Jack with the knife still deeply embedded in her flesh. Jack scrambled back, his eyes wide with fear as he looked around desperately for another weapon.
Dean jumped forward. Wrapping one hand in her scrub top, the other found the handle of the knife and he yanked it out. Dragging her up against his chest, he brought the knife around and went to slice her throat open.
Hayley thrust her elbow back and into his stomach, upsetting his aim, and the knife only sliced through the first layer of skin, creating a steady stream of blood but not doing any real damage. Reaching up, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard enough that Dean wasn't sure that the bone wasn't going to snap.
With a grunt, he was forced to drop the knife.
She snatched it from the air with lightning-fast reflexes and then, before Dean had the chance to move or come up with another plant of attack, she was twisting around to face him and burying the blade deep into his guts.
Dean gasped, the pain slicing through him like a hot poker. His hand came up, wrapping around hers. Behind them, Jack screamed something, his voice too shrill and terrified for Dean to be able to make out what he said.
Hayley dug the knife in deeper as she backed Dean up against the wall once again. Bracing him there, she twisted it viciously with a smirk before she ripped it sideways and out of his body. Warm blood instantly began to soak his shirt and the burning pain intensified.
Dean stared at her in shock, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
She'd stabbed him. She'd just—Dean's vision blurred, his breath catching on a faint sound of pain. She was breathing hard, something akin to elation in wide eyes. She rotated her jaw again, allowing the fang to descend.
"No!" Jack yelled before he slammed into Hayley, shoving her aside and away from Dean. They hit the ground and then Jack was springing upright and coming to stand protectively in front of Dean.
Dean slowly slid down the wall, leaving a thick trail of blood behind him. One hand was pressed against the gaping hole in his stomach even as he reached for Jack, trying to pull him away.
Jack stood his ground. He had at some point grabbed a gun and he brought it up to pin on Hayley for all the good that it would do. Dean groaned breathlessly as he tipped over to lay on his side, vainly trying to keep his blood and guts where they belonged.
The gun wasn't going to work on her, all it had was normal bullets. They were screwed.
His gaze flitted away from the fight, seeking out his brother, just like he always had, just like he always would. Sam was still lying next to the door, his body a crumpled heap. If Hayley wanted him, then all she had to do was turn around and he'd be right there. She could take him. There was nothing between her and him.
The fear of that cut through the pain and Dean tried to push himself up. Blood pumped out over his hand but he didn't care. Sam was in danger, he had to get to him.
He glanced back up, Hayley and Jack seemed to be in a silent stare-off, neither quite sure what the other was going to do. The gun wouldn't work against her, but it did cause pain and that might be enough to get Hayley to leave Jack alone.
Hayley hesitated, her eyes on the gun. She glanced once at him, and at Jack and the gun, and then back at Sam.
Dean knew the decision that she was going to make before she did. They were nothing more than a nuisance to her—for all he knew she wasn't interested in them because they weren't dead yet—and she wanted Sam's body.
That was what she had come for.
"No," Dean managed to ground out, trying to get to his feet but his legs weren't working correctly and they puddled back to the ground. His blood was hot and thick against his skin, but he couldn't be worried about that. Not when she was about to take Sam. "Jack—" he pleaded even as he got an arm underneath himself, trying to crawl forward for all the good it would do.
Jack backed up, forcing Dean to stay down and Dean swallowed a sob. Jack wasn't doing anything to save Sam, he was just standing in front of Dean, the gun still out and trained on Hayley.
Dean's vision was badly blurred and he wasn't sure if it was from blood loss or tears. There was nothing that he could do but watch helplessly as she scooped Sam up, hefting him up and over her shoulder like he weighed nothing.
"No—Jack, stop—Sammy—" The words weren't coming out correctly and Dean fisted a bloody hand in Jack's pants, pleading.
She had Sam, she had Sam and she was disappearing through the window and Dean couldn't move. He couldn't do anything to stop it. It was like he was watching this horrible nightmare that was happening in slow motion and he couldn't wake up.
Jack shakily lowered the gun as Hayley disappeared and turned, disentangled himself from Dean's weak grasp. Dean slumped back, both hands now pressed against the gaping hole.
"Jack—Sam—"
Jack would get Sam, he would stop this…only Jack wasn't moving to follow Sam. He was grabbing one of the towels from the floor that Dean had been using to clean up Sam, he wasn't trying to stop Hayley, he wasn't going to follow them and get Sam back.
"No, no, no—" Dean tried to protest, trying to move again and to get up. "Jack, Sam—get Sam, you have to—" Dean's voice cut out with a grunt of pain. Jack dropped down next to him, blocking his line of vision.
"Jack! Go!"
"Hold still. You're bleeding really bad," Jack said, his voice wavering and his hands trembling. His face was white with fear.
"No!" Dean protested again, reaching up and grabbing a handful of Jack's shirt and attempting to shove him away, but his grip was alarmingly weak. Jack didn't even flinch. "Jack, get Sam. You have to get Sam."
"Hold on, just hold on. I'm—I'm going to get the bleeding stopped. I'm calling Cas, he'll help." Jack sounded increasingly terrified even as he tried to shove Dean's hands out of the way and get access to the wound. "This is going to hurt," he warned even as Dean looked away, blinking back tears.
Sam was gone.
Jack had just let him go. Dean had just let him go.
The flare of agony as Jack added pressure hardly even penetrated the haze of loss that Dean was wrapped in.
Sam was gone. Not only was he dead, but his body was being used for God only knew what, and now Dean had failed his brother in every possible way imaginable. Hayley had just waltzed in there and taken his body.
Jack rolled him further onto his back with blood-stained hands so that he could apply proper pressure and Dean stared up at the ceiling, trying to wrap his mind around just how badly they had screwed up.
The towel that Jack was using as a makeshift bandage was rapidly soaking through with his blood and even if they did get the bleeding stopped Dean was sure that there was internal damage. There had to be with how she had ripped that knife out.
There was no chance of saving him, but there might be one for saving Sam. If Jack would just go after him, they might still stand a chance.
"If you don't go after Sam, I'm going to say no to my reaper and stay here to haunt you for the rest of your days," Dean managed to get out and wasn't sure that the desperation there truly conveyed how he felt, how serious he was. His voice was too soft, too slurred and weak.
"Sam wouldn't want you to die too. Sam doesn't want this," Jack snapped, his voice threatening to break and Dean rolled his head back, letting it thump against the carpet as frustration and fear rolled through.
What would Sam have wanted? Not that it mattered because Sam was dead, and he wasn't coming back this time to tell them what he would or wouldn't have wanted.
Dean went limp at the thought. Jack wasn't going to leave him to find Sam and Dean wasn't going to be able to make him, no matter how hard he tried.
He'd failed Sam.
He hadn't even been able to give him a proper burial even though this time he had been going to do it. He really had been going to.
Jack increased the pressure and Dean closed his eyes, groaning as the pain flared along with the pressure.
He was dying, he could feel it…but maybe that was alright, excusing the fact that Sam's body was now missing. An hour ago, he would have welcomed this fate with open arms.
He still might.
"Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Don't go to sleep. You have to stay awake." Jack's voice sounded far away but Dean didn't try to listen. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the end for both of them. He had hoped to go before Sam, or at the very least that they would have gone together, but this was about as close to that as he was going to get.
Maybe Hayley would come back for him just like she had come back for Sam and then he and Sam would have the same ending.
They would be together.
Blood loss was making everything fuzzy and distant.
Sam was already dead and was waiting for him wherever it was that the Winchesters brothers were to end up after death, be it in hell, the empty, or heaven.
It wouldn't be that bad, right? To just let go and be with Sam?
Maybe Sam was here already, waiting to welcome Dean into death just like they did in the movies. He might see Sam again in just a few minutes.
Hope flared hot and bright in Dean's chest and he didn't have the energy to try to fight, to try and stay. Not when he could be with Sam.
"Dean?"
Dean relaxed. He was going to see Sam in just a moment. He was going to open his eyes and his little brother would be right there.
"Dean!"
Only the voice didn't sound right, it didn't sound like Sam. Dean was waiting for Sam. Sam was going to be there. In just a moment, he was going to see his brother again and everything was going to be okay.
"Dean, don't do this—"
Other voices were calling his name now and none of them were right. Dean kept his eyes closed, waiting for the warmth that would be Sam's soul coming for his, for his voice to call his name.
There was warmth, but it brought sharpening clarity rather than the blissful unawareness of death.
Dean slowly blinked his eyes open and found himself staring into Cas's pale face, his hand still pressed to his forehead. He looked shaken even as Dean gasped in a full breath. He sat bolt upright, almost knocking Cas back in the process.
He was still alive and disappointment was burning sharp and bright in his gut. Not only was he alive, but Sam was now missing.
Sam's body was gone.
"Sam—" he crocked out. An arm went around his shoulder and he flinched back to see Mary crouched there. Jack was kneeling next to Cas, his hands held away from his body and covered in blood.
Dean was covered in blood, he could feel it drying on his skin and still soaked into his shirt.
"Dean, how do you feel? Do you feel alright?" Cas asked, trying to duck down and get a good look into Dean's face but Dean shook his head.
"I'm fine. Sam—do we know where Sam is?"
Cas glanced sideways at Jack, the silent question on his face.
"She took him. She took Sam and ran, but Dean was bleeding, and-and I couldn't—" Jack broke himself off with a hiccup, his eyes red and shell-shocked.
"We can still catch her," Dean said, trying to shove himself back onto his feet, only to end up sitting in a puddle of his own blood as his legs gave out. Mary lurched forward, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Stay down, you lost a lot of blood."
"No, get me up," Dean snarled impatiently, trying to get his legs underneath him. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to stay down, Mary and Cas both grabbed an arm to help pull him to his feet. Dean tried to shake them off once he was standing but Cas pushed him down to sit on the bed. Mary sank to sit next to him.
"What happened?" Cas asked even as Mary gripped Dean's arm hard, searching his face.
"I—" Dean was still reeling. Sam's body was gone.
"You dropped the call and it sounded bad so we came back as fast we could," Mary explained as she looked around. Grabbing one of the less-stained washcloths from the bedside table she began to dab at the glossy blood on Dean's hands. "We were just in time to see someone in a white pickup tearing out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell."
Dean's insides lurched and he turned slowly, aiming a dark glare at her. "Then why didn't you chase after her? She has Sam."
"Because we knew that if she had managed to get Sam, you and Jack were in trouble. And we were right," Cas argued back, his voice firm. "You were bleeding out, Dean. Your stomach was ripped open and you would have died if I hadn't been here."
Dean let out a harsh laugh. "Do you think that I care?" He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but he didn't take it back. He pulled out of Mary's grasp, burying his face in them.
He didn't even Sam's body.
He wasn't even going to be able to give him a proper funeral, one that he deserved. Was the universe determined to screw Sam over, to deny him even that basic respect? He laughed again in some vein attempt to keep the tears that were threatening at bay.
He had never buried Sam, and it didn't look like he was ever going to.
"Dean, I'm so sorry—" Jack began.
Dean didn't let him finish, saying bluntly, "Next time, when I tell you to do something, you do it, understand? I would have been fine, you should have gotten Sam to safety before trying to help me."
"There was so much blood, and she'd—"
"I don't care!" Dean yelled, raising his head and standing swiftly. "I really don't give a rat's ass—she has Sam!" Raking both hands through his hair, he turned in a circle. "Where's my gun? I need my gun. I need—"
Car keys. He needed the car keys because he might be able to track her down if he left right now. The chances of that were slim, she had too much of a head start, but each second that he wasted only decreased his chances of finding her.
"Sit down." Mary had stood as well and was gesturing back to the bed. She might have had a point, because the whole room was turning slowly, leaving Dean feeling dizzy and unsteady, but he couldn't.
"No." Dean shook his head as he staggered to the side. Grabbing for the doorframe he took a deep breath to steady himself. "We need to go. We—I need to find Sam."
"No." This time it was Cas who was shaking his head and moving to stand between Dean and the door. "Dean, you lost a lot of blood. I healed the wounds but I can't fix the effects of blood loss. You need to sit down."
"I don't need that! You don't know what the hell I need!" Dean yelled harshly. None of them did. The one person who would have known what he needed was in the back of some pickup truck, dead.
"We all need to regroup and talk over our next move. We still don't know how to kill her and she is not to be underestimated. She almost killed you and she did kill Sam," Mary insisted sharply. "I already lost one son, but I'm not ready to lose both of you."
That made Dean pause and then he let out a bark of laughter.
"You already have," he said, not trying to hide the catch in his voice as he shoved his way past Cas and out of the bedroom.
He was going to find Sam himself, with or without the others.
"Dean, they are already gone. They could be anywhere and we cannot track her and it will be a further waste of our time to try." Cas had followed him into the room. "I promise you that we will do our best to find Sam but there is no point in chasing after them right now. Mary is right, we need to find out how to stop her before we go in. We need to be smart about this."
"What do we know about Hayley Scott?" Dean growled just as determinedly as he moved over to the table. Sam's laptop was still resting there and he sat down hard into one of the plastic chairs.
He left bloody fingerprints behind as he opened Sam's laptop and typed in the password but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The screen flickered to life and Dean's heart gave a funny, painful little jolt when he opened it up and saw the webpage that Sam had been using last.
He was never going to finish reading what was there.
Minimizing it because he couldn't quite find it in himself to close it out, Dean pulled up the police database before turning expectantly to Mary and Cas. "Is Hayley spelled with two y's or one?"
Mary moved in, crouching next to him. "Dean, you need to eat and drink something to replace all the fluids that you just lost. And a shower. You really need to shower before you can go anywhere. You do that, and I swear that while you are, the rest of us will look into both tracking down Hayley and finding a way to stop her."
Dean blinked dumbly at her before shaking his head with a scoff. He wasn't going to eat or shower, not when time was ticking downwards of them finding Sam's body in one piece. For all he knew Hayley was going to cut Sam up, use his organs for spell work, or even just eat him. She could have already pulled over and started.
"Is Hayley with one y or two?" he repeated, his temper sparking.
"Shower and food first. While you do that, we will look into it, I swear. I'm not letting Sam go," Mary compromised, her eyes growing tight.
Dean laughed sarcastically. "You guys haven't done jack squat. All you've wanted to do is use Sam as bait, and then you let him actually get taken. So no, I'm doing this."
Hurt flashed through Mary's eyes, but she didn't budge. "I'm not going to apologize for saving you. Cas isn't, and neither is Jack. You were dying, Dean, you understand that right?"
Dean swore loudly before slapping the table. "SHE HAS HIS BODY!"
"I know," Mary said at the same time that Jack gave a quiet, terrified, whisper.
"Dean, I'm so sorry."
Dean looked away. "Whatever. If you don't want to help then don't. I'll figure it out myself." He began to type, pretending that he didn't hear Cas say behind him,
"Jack, you don't have to apologize for anything. You did nothing wrong here."
Dean wasn't quite so sure that he agreed.
Jack could have saved Sam if he had left Dean behind to face Hayley when she had first shown up. He could have taken Sam's body and ran—and sure, then Hayley probably would have gone after them after killing Dean, but they didn't know that. She might have taken Dean in Sam's stead.
Dean would have been okay with that.
He'd had to leave Sam's body behind when the vampires had torn out his throat in that alternative universe and that had been beyond horrible. But this…they didn't even know what Hayley wanted with the bodies or what kind of state he was going to find his brother in.
Would he even recognize him? Or was he going to have to dig through a pile of bones that could be Sam's or could be any random Joe?
Mary was trying to get his attention again but Dean turned her out.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Dean looked through the database that he had pulled up. He knew where Hayley worked and her name and that would be enough to go off of for the moment.
The others must have received the message that he wasn't about to be budged on the matter because they backed off after several long moments of silence, although Mary did come by and set down a bag of chips from the vending machine and a bottle of Gatorade.
Jack went to scrub the blood from his arms as Mary and Cas exchanged a hurried, whispered, conversation over in the corner but Dean ignored them.
Within ten minutes, he had a home address along with the car registration for a white pickup that had been purchased less than two months ago. That would do. Writing down all the information on a piece of paper, Dean tucked it into his pocket.
Everyone froze when he got up but Dean just strode into the bedroom to strip out of his blood-soaked clothes. He tossed them uncaringly across the bed and then changed into clean ones. The blood was already dried and itchy across his skin, but Dean didn't have time to wash it off.
He just needed to pass as presentable, that was it.
Crossing back into the main room, he headed straight for the door but found his path blocked by Mary.
"Where are you going?" she asked folding her arms across her chest and Dean fought the surge of annoyance that came with the question. He was a grown-ass man and he could do what he wanted. Besides, Mary hadn't lifted a finger to help so Dean wasn't going to start cluing her in now. "Dean—" Mary said, trying to keep his voice calm, "You have to know that we can't let you leave in your state. We will find Hayley, we just can't be stupid about this. And what you are about to do? It's stupid."
Dean's lips thinned, his back straightening. "You let Sam go," he repeated, trying to put every ounce of resentment that he was feeling in his voice.
"And we're going to help you get him back, but you can't go alone," Cas said determinedly, coming to stand beside Mary, and Dean's already short temper flared again.
"Why? Because that's what Sam would have wanted?" he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He was sick of people telling him that. What did they know about what Sam would have wanted? None of them knew, not like Dean did. "Get out of the way, I don't need your help."
"Yes, you do. You are not thinking straight."
Dean laughed again. "Thinking straight? I'm thinking the clearest that I have in a long time." It was true. Michael's possession didn't matter. Michael's monsters didn't matter. The other hunters didn't matter. Nothing did except Sam.
"Dean—"
"Get the hell out of my way, or I'll make you."
Cas moved forward, blocking Dean's path. He was an old friend, and that was pretty much the only thing saving him from getting Dean's fist in his face, but that tolerance only stretched so far. Cas squared his shoulders, straightening to his full height.
"We want to find Sam just as much as you do, but we will have greater success if we work together. You are in no shape to face her alone and if we don't figure it out before we face her then someone else is going to end up dead."
Dean shook his head. "Get out of the way. I'm not asking again."
"I am no mere human that you can push around to your every whim and I can't in good conscience let you walk out that door," Cas said, puffing himself up in an effort to intimidate Dean. It wasn't working. Dean had never been impressed by that.
"What are you going to do?" he sneered, raising his eyebrows.
Cas shrugged. "Well, I can do this."
And then before Dean could do anything but hurriedly back up a step to put some space between them, Cas was pressing his palm against Dean's forehead.
Everything went black and Dean knew no more.
#
Cas caught Dean as he crumpled to the ground in a deep sleep. Mary moved forward to help, grabbing his legs so that they could carry him.
"Couch or bed?" she asked and Cas glanced at the small couch.
"Bed," he said after a moment of hesitation. Dean would never be comfortable on the couch.
Lifting together, they carried Dean past a stricken-looking Jack and into the room, depositing him on the less bloody of the beds. Mary grabbed the extra blanket from the closet and unfurled it over him, tucking it in before taking off his boots.
"How long is he going to be out?" she asked and Cas shrugged.
"A few hours at the least. It could be longer, could be shorter. His body has been put under great strain recently and I'm not sure how he will respond."
Mary nodded, gently running a hand through Dean's hair before heaving a sigh. "At least he is resting. That is good."
Cas wasn't so sure.
"Dean will be less than thrilled when he wakes up," he warned, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his friend sleep. To say that Dean would be angry would be an understatement.
"You did what was right," Mary insisted, giving Cas a sad little look. "If he left now then he was going to get himself killed."
Cas heaved a sigh and turned from the room. That was true, but he still wasn't sure that Dean would understand or agree.
Dean had been right about one thing. Time was of the essence to find Sam and, despite what Dean might have believed, Cas did want to find him. He didn't want Sam to have to endure whatever was waiting for him at the hands of Hayley.
He wanted to grant Sam peace in death that he had never been granted during his life.
If Dean hadn't been dying then any single one of them would have tried to stop Hayley from taking him. They would have fought tooth and nail to get him back and they still would. They just had to be smart about this because Hayley was dangerous.
She had almost succeeded in killing two of the best hunters that this world had ever seen.
Mary was already headed back towards the main room. "Does anyone know Sam's password to get onto his computer?" she asked the room at large as she powered it back on, trying to ignore the blood stains on the keys and the lid.
Cas shook his head, but Jack nodded. "He showed me a few weeks ago, just in case I needed it. Let me just…"
It didn't take Jack long to get Sam's computer on. Dean hadn't shut anything down, and Hayley's main address was still up. Cas stared at it uneasily even as Mary jotted down the information for the pickup and then made a phone call to the local police department under the guise of the FBI to have an APB put out on the truck. He overheard her tell them that they were not to approach under any circumstance as the suspect was extremely dangerous, but to let them know if it was located.
At the very least it might point them in the right direction. Right now they had no clue where she was headed. Cas would go, as soon as they knew where she was and he would do everything possible to save Sam but he wasn't risking anyone else. As much as it hurt, Sam was already dead and would remain dead if they found him or not.
Cas glanced back into the bedroom to where Dean was now sleeping and couldn't help but feel deep frustration.
Was what they were already going through not enough? Dean was in no state of mind to be dealing with yet another crisis. Dean was having a hard enough time just accepting that Sam was in fact dead, and now he was missing.
"What are we going to do if we do find Hayley? I don't think that she can die. I stabbed her in the back and Dean shot her, but it didn't do anything," Jack said uneasily as Mary hung up.
"Everything dies," Mary cut in before Cas could. "We just have to find a way to kill it and to do that, we need to know what it is. I'll call Travis in just a moment and see if he can get everyone else to start doing research as well. They'll drop everything for Sam and with all of us working something has to pan out."
"So more research?" Jack looked dismayed and frustrated.
Mary nodded, sitting across from Jack on the couch and pulling out her phone. "We need to be prepared before we come face-to-face with her again."
Cas did agree with that, but he had another concern. "What are we going to do when Dean wakes up? He is going to want to immediately leave and track down Hayley, and you saw him earlier. Nothing short of brute force will stop him."
Mary heaved a sigh, making a long face. "Can't you just knock him out again until we know that we are ready?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I mean…I could, but Dean would never forgive me. He is already going to be angry that I did it once." Cas had put their friendship on the line by having done so. Mary had already so much as forfeited hers when she had brought using Sam up as bait, and perhaps even Jack had as well by choosing to save Dean over Sam.
Mary didn't understand Dean, or at least not the depths that he was willing to go to for Sam or how he grieved. When he got angry like this, when he was hurting this badly, he tended to lash out and no one was safe.
No one except maybe Sam. But even then, Dean tended to push his brother away or spew hurtful words even if he didn't cut ties directly. He never would have cut ties with Sam, and that was the difference. They, however, didn't stand a chance, not with it being Sam who was dead.
One wrong move or action and Dean would cut them out and never look back.
"But it would stop him from doing something he would later regret," Mary insisted.
Cas gave a dry chuckle. "You don't understand, Mary."
"What? You think I don't understand him at all? That I've never lost someone I care about?" A bitter note was creeping into her voice but Cas was coming off several very, very, long and horrible hours and he didn't have as much patience for this as he might have another time.
"That is exactly what I am saying. You have not been with Dean throughout the years like I have been. The last time that he lost someone close to him, it was you and me and you did not witness what I am sure went down. I have seen him go through similar situations before, though, and you cannot understand a grieving Dean Winchester until you have seen it for yourself."
Mary bristled. "I am his mother!"
"And yet you have witnessed very little of his actual life and upbringing," Cas snapped.
"Cas is right," Jack said quietly, refusing to look up at either of them. "When I first met Dean, he told me—he said—he was scary," Jack broke off, shaking his head.
"But—" Mary once again tried to protest and Cas shook his head in frustration, this conversation was getting them nowhere.
"Sam has some books in the trunk that might be helpful. I'll be back."
He strode out the door and just resisted the urge to slam it shut behind him. Mary didn't understand, she just didn't get it and she was going to end up putting her foot in her mouth even more than she already had.
Opening the trunk of the Impala, Cas dug out the box that Sam kept books in and began to rummage through them, looking for what he didn't even really know. His motions slowed as his anger drained and he found himself looking more closely at the books, turning them over one by one.
Sam had a thirst for knowledge that Cas had seen in few others. Even when Dean would grow bored and wander off, Sam had frequently been willing to sit and discuss with him inane matters, asking endless questions and answering Cas's own patiently.
Cas had treasured those times.
Sam should not have died so young and if only he had known in life how much he would be missed…His friendship had meant more to Cas than he had ever told Sam outright, and now he never would.
Chewing on his lower lip, Cas looked away momentarily as he pulled himself together.
Choosing several old and battered books on various subjects that might prove useful, Cas lingered there for a moment, stilling his resolve before moving back towards the motel room.
He couldn't stay out here forever, and there was work that needed to be done.
#
Reality was slow to creep back in and it left Dean feeling unusually calm and rested.
For a moment, he lay there, soaking in the warmth of the blanket that was covering him. For once, unconsciousness hadn't brought pain but rather healing and that could only mean—
And then Dean stopped, his world-shattering as his heart sank.
That only happened when Cas knocked him out, and Cas had only put him to sleep because Sam…Sam was dead.
He had forgotten, for a few blissful moments, he had forgotten everything.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the burn there and struggling to gain control over his emotions. He wanted nothing more than to roll over and pull the blankets over him and cry until he had no tears left or drink until he couldn't remember anything at all.
But he couldn't do that because not only was Sam dead but his body had been stolen.
Forcing his eyes open, Dean sat up, shoving the blanket that had been laid over him off. He was in the bedroom, and the broken door was mostly closed, probably in some attempt to offer him privacy.
Cas had knocked him out. Had kept him from getting to Sam.
The betrayal hurt more than Dean had thought that it could. Everyone had turned against him now, there was no one on his side. Worse, there was no one on Sam's side.
Easing off the bed, Dean looked around for his boots, which someone had removed. Hastily shoving his feet in and lacing them up, Dean stood. His jacket was right there, and it would have his phone and the car keys in the pocket. Everything else that he needed could be found in Impala.
Creeping forward, Dean glanced through the door and could see Mary, Jack, and Cas all bent over the table which was overflowing with books along with various electronic devices.
They wouldn't let him leave, they had already proven that, and they weren't willing to go after Hayley either, not until they knew more. Dean couldn't just sit there researching to keep himself safe, not when Sam was in danger. It had already been too long. Sam could be—no. He had to believe that he would find Sam in one piece.
Looking around, Dean hesitated before crossing over to the still-broken window. Easing his way through the broken shards as carefully as he could more to not make any noise than care about if he got cut, Dean dropped down onto the ground.
The Impala, his ever-faithful girl, was waiting for him in the parking lot, and Dean sank into the seats, his hand ghosting over the dashboard and then the wheel. Even when everyone else turned on him, she wouldn't.
She would understand when she went into storage.
Patting the dash and taking a deep breath to steady himself, Dean turned the key over and the engine rumbled to life. Before Cas or anyone else could come dashing out to stop him, he backed her up and then took off down the main road without looking in the rearview mirror. He wasn't too surprised when a moment later his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.
He ignored it, as well as the subsequent phone calls that followed before he eventually just turned his phone onto silent. They weren't about to stop him now, not when they had already cost him too much time. He was going to Hettinger and Hayley's apartment.
She had to return there eventually. Who knew, she could be there with Sam right now. At the very least, it was a starting point.
What he was going to do once he got there was still up in the air, but he would figure it out. The drive to Hettinger was a couple of hours long and that was plenty of time to come up with a plan. Even if he didn't, he'd wing it. Not that that had worked out so well for him before, but it didn't matter.
The only thing that Dean cared about was tracking down Hayley and getting his brother back, no matter the cost to himself.
