It was hours before John finally found them, the light of the sunrise peeking through the blinds, and Bobby had not stirred in all that time. Dean had fought the ropes, grinding them away against the beam, but as the adrenaline wore off the pain became excruciating, feeling as though he was scraping against bone with every movement. He was forced to rest or risk passing out. His only comfort was the slight but steady rise and fall of Bobby's chest, the only sign of life the older hunter displayed.
He wasn't able to speak when his father came, his throat so dry it only croaked. He wasn't sure if it was from the dehydration, or the hours of screaming. John wasted no time untying Dean and assessing the damage, finding nothing fatal he moved to Bobby, checking the vitals. Dean made his way to the old pickup, finding the water jug and forcing himself to take slow sips. The liquid soothed his throat and he fought the urge to collapse, instead moving back inside to assist with Bobby.
"Hospital?" Dean croaked, watching his dad lean over Bobby's chest, listening close to the heartbeat.
"Don't think we can, not without an anonymous drop off." John gruffed, sitting up and sighing. Dean noticed the bags under his dad's eyes and passively wondered how long it had been since John got any sleep.
"They took Sam." John gruffed, it wasn't a question, but Dean nodded, the guilt threatening to overwhelm him. "We'll need to start searching, think you can drive? Saw your Impala parked in the back. We'll need to split up, someone needs to take Bobby back and monitor him."
"I'll go after them." Dean said, pushing the weariness away as he spoke, standing up straighter as if to prove he was capable of staying upright.
It was a testament to John's exhaustion that he didn't protest, "I'll get the call out to the community, get some more eyes searching, you see their faces?"
"Two. Bald guy and Cowboy." Dean was already moving, positioning himself to carry the older hunter.
"I'll have you look over some pictures when you get back." John took the front half and with a gruff hoisted Bobby up, little grace was involved as they carried the old hunter out to the truck, the exhaustion threatening to make the task impossible. They flopped Bobby into the passenger seat, laying him down with the seat back best they could. Dean turned, ready to find the Impala.
"Dean'' John barked, "Come here." on autopilot Dean turned around, watching as John rummaged in the emergency kit and came out with a roll of gauze and disinfectant spray. "Take care of those wrists before you go."
Reluctantly Dean walked over, holding out his wrists as John examined them, frowning at the mangled flesh. "It will scar bad." John grumbled, as if Dean gave a damn. The disinfectant hit him like a train, every instinct telling him to flinch away but he held firm, letting the stinging liquid infiltrate the raw wounds. Dean's pain must have escaped through because John gave an apologetic look before bundling the wrists with layers of gauze. "There." He said, giving Dean's arm a small squeeze, the closest they got to a hug. "You be back in 5 hours, can't burn yourself out."
Dean felt burned out already, his eyes aching to close and his body longing to just collapse on any semi-horizontal surface, but he nodded, his mind reeling in anticipation for the search. He needed, needed to find Sam before that Bald Bastard put his hands on his brother. The images of the pictures kept flashing before through his mind, reminding him just what was at stake.
Dean didn't remember walking to the Impala, or John giving him the spare key (the bastards must have the original on them) but despite the large dent in the front where it hit the ditch, the engine turned over, Dean revved it a few times, making sure it wouldn't cut out before he began to pull out.
And stopped
He had no idea where to go, not even a direction. If the men came from their previous town would they keep heading away? Or maybe they had something they could go back to, some kind of main base. Dean let his head slip between his hands, fingers tangling themselves in the unkempt hair. He could feel the men driving father and farther away in that black van, with Sam, going god-knows-where to do god-knows-what to his brother and he had no idea how to even begin trying to search.
He looked up slowly at the grungy motel before throwing the Impala back into drive and pulling back into the parking space. He got out and walked over, heading towards the front desk.
The clerk was reluctant to give information out, something about a "guests' right to privacy" aka "we cater to a select clientele" Dean simply did not have the time or the patience and quickly settled the matter with a knife held firmly against the worker's neck. After that, the man was much more forthcoming though he only had a name, the room being paid in cash, of course.
"Bill Nyle." it was a false name, obviously. You don't kidnap a child and leave a trail but it was more than he had before. Dean thanked the man kindly by removing the blade, and left, throwing the car into gear and peeling out before the cops showed up. He hoped the place was too cheap to have cameras.
He tried his best to think like the men, get into their heads somehow. It was clear they planned this, clear they somehow followed him after they had left town, which meant they must have been stalking him for the couple days they had arrived at Bobby's. Found that Bobby's house was too hard to infiltrate and chose to wait it out until Dean was more vulnerable.
But why not wait until Sam was with him too? Unless they had thought Sam was in the car.
Dean sighed, shaking his head, if their base was in Sioux Falls then someone had to have seen them, a diner, a grocery store, a gas station, there weren't enough provisions in that hotel for even one meal.
Dean pulled into the nearest 24 hour diner and got out, without a picture he had to go off the vague description and the alias, but the waitress just shook her head. Dean must have looked a little crazy, unwashed, unkept, blood stains on himself, describing a fat bald man and a cowboy. He sighed and trudged back to the car.
After every small-name diner within a two mile radius (of which there were 12) he began on the more common fast food joints, he was just finishing up at a Mickey D's when the phone vibrated.
He flipped it open without looking. "Dean."
His dad was on the line. "Where are you? It's been 5 hours."
"Shit" Dean ran a hand down his face and sighed. "Headed your way. How's Bobby?"
"Woke up briefly, looks like crap though, trying to get him to just stay down." John sounded on the verge of collapse. "I'll give you 10 before I call in the cavalry."
"If the cavalry is you I think I can outrun them." Dean let out a dead laugh and hung up, turning the car back to Bobby's.
Dean slid the door of Bobby's place open with a loud creek, nearly tripping on the doorstep as he dragged himself inside.
If John had looked tired before he was a walking corpse now, eyelids half closed and what looked like little pin pricks on his arm. Dean recognized the 'pain keeps you awake' method he was taught in the marines.
"You good?" John asked, he was sitting in the old recliner, which had been moved in front of the couch. Bobby lay, sleeping, an IV poking out of one arm and loosely hung on the coat rack.
"Ya." Dean sighed. "Hit up all the cafe's, no one knew anything. Got the hotel name." Dean slipped his dad the raggedy paper he had jotted the info down onto. "Probably not much."
John nodded, standing with what looked like great effort and pacing towards the kitchen. "Sit, I'll take over."
"Dad" Dean grabbed John's arm as he passed. "No one wants to find Sam more than me." Pain was etched in Dean's voice as his heart fought with the logic. "But we can't keep going. You're about to collapse, and I can't even stay standing much longer. We have to rest. Call the police, make some story up."
John looked over his eldest son, taking in the frail and frazzled form, then wondering how bad he had to look for Dean to let the investigation pause. His son was right though, about the first bit at least. "We can't get the cops involved, son." he sighed. "This one's got to be on us."
"Why?" Dean's expression torned cold. "If this is about you-"
"I killed a man." John blurted out, too tired to filter his words. "That teacher bastard, he hurt Sam, and I killed him."
Dean stood, mind reeling, his shocked expression must have given away the disbelief
"If you knew, if you saw what he was doing-" John became defensive.
"I know." Dean barked back, the cold expression back in his eyes. Whatever weariness he had seemed to be overrun by the rage that he had somehow forgotten. "I fucking saw the photos Dad. I know that you for whatever god-damned reason were involved."
John's brows furrowed, foggy brain trying to make sense of the accusation. "I did what I had to do son."
"Ya? I don't give a fuck about whatever sick reason you had for Sam to do that" Dean took a step closer, using John's arm to leverage himself.
John couldn't make out the sense in Dean's words, only the anger radiating off him. "Well where were you huh?" John growled back, pushing his held arm against Dean. "You went to school with him every freaking day and never did a damned thing."
The words cut deep, and John regretted them instantly. Dean let go, arms slipping away to his side as he backed off. "I know I fucked up." He growled, but the anger was gone. "But that doesn't and will never excuse what you did."
The guilt that John felt was snuffed out by the frustration. "I did what I had to! I thought you of all people would be on board."
"Why the hell would I be on board with what you did?" Dean's voice raised "You made my brother-"
"WILL YOU TWO IDGITS SHUT THE HELL UP." the voice of Bobby Singer nearly deafened the men, who quickly turned to see Bobby doing his best to prop himself up on his elbows. "You giving me a killer headache with all your bitching." He groaned, flopping back down.
Dean was quickly at Bobby's side, John standing numbly in the stairway. "Sorry." He mumbled to the older hunter. "How ya feeling?"
"Bout as good as you do I reckon" Bobby groaned. "You look like hell boy."
"Gee thanks." Dean snapped, but let out a small smile and, after fussing over Bobby, collapsed into the chair. John and their argument long forgotten in the folds of much-needed rest.
"Any word?" Bobby asked, Dean just shook his head limply, before falling into sleep.
Dean woke to Bobby's voice from the kitchen. It was a testament to his exhaustion that even with his trained instinct he didn't wake to Bobby getting up, though, he reminded himself, Bobby was trained too.
"Ya, Winchester boy, about 4'8" brown hair brown eyes, short fat Bald guy and tall skinny guy took him last night…. Ya thanks, give a holler." the phone clicked as Bobby hung it on the wall.
Bobby didn't make any notice of Dean approaching, rummaging in the fridge, seemingly unaware, until he turned and set a bowl of something on the table. "Eat." he gruffed.
Dean slipped into the chair and stared at the unappealing contents "What is it?" He turned his spoon over, letting the brown sludge roll off in a small 'plump'
"Grits, good for ya, eat up, then you can help me out." Bobby went back to the phones, flipping through a large white notebook before dialing another number. "Your daddy's out doing the legwork."
Dean nodded and forced some sludge down, it ended up not being as bad as it looked. Bobby went back into the monologue, missing a boy, two men took him, don't know the names. Dean signed and let his eyes close for a second.
'Ruined our lives'
Holy crap
Dean jumped up, the chair clattering to the ground behind him, causing Bobby to turn abruptly, dropping the phone.
"I remember," Dean stammered. "They have police records, they're wanted by the police. There has to be a record, one with their real names. We need to go back."
AN: Thanks for reading! I know it's been a long time since my last update and I will make the next one soon.