It was a bust
Not really, Dean wasn't wrong. There had been arrest warrents issued for David Fosselfield (the Cowboy), and Buddy Jackson (the Baldy), but Dean didn't care because the police had no damned clue and no fucking leads.
The men had been well respected, wives and children to both, but by the time the police had obtained the incriminating evidence from Mr Simmons home the men were gone, assets liquified and cash grabbed leaving their wives and kids to suffer.
The wives hadn't been any help, still insisting on the innocence of their beloved husbands. Going on and on about it being a 'setup' and 'they had never once touched a child.' it took everything Dean had not to sock one in the face.
Bobby had put out the word to every hunter and ally in the country (and some outside) to look out for Sam Winchester, but there had been no leads and it had been over a week.
Dean tapped rhythmically on the Impala window, waiting in the parking lot of a bar as his father questioned yet another scumbag with a habit of 'hangin' with little boys, or at least rummered to. They had long since exhausted the scumbags in the first town, and were on to the smaller outskirt towns. Normally Dean went with his dad, but things had been tense, every day going by without Sam only growing the tension. John was giving up, Dean could tell by the look in his eye, it was like he had already decided Sam's fate and was only doing this to appease Dean, not like Dean would be willing to roll over.
"Damn it" he cursed, slamming a fist against the steering wheel and letting out an exasperated sigh."I'm coming Sammy, I won't give up."
He jumped as the car rattled with a loud thump. He turned quickly towards the back window and saw a very grumpy John Winchester pressing a very scared sonofabitch up against the car. "Open it." John nodded at Dean who hastily grabbed the keys and stumbled out of the car to the trunk. John held the guy up long enough for Dean to insert the key and latch it open before John shoved the guy into the (nice and roomy) trunk.
"Didn't know we were in the habit of kidnapping" Dean joked lamely, giving a nervous laugh.
"Get in" John replied gruffly, grabbing the keys and heading to the driver's seat while Dean slipped into the passengers. Clearly this wasn't a plan that John felt the need to share with his oldest son. Dean sat awkwardly, ignoring the thumping that could be heard above the engine rumble whenever they stopped at the light.
The road stretched on as they left the city heading east down the flat highway, Dean's anxiety skyrocketted whenever they passed a cruiser but John wasn't so stupid to go his normal speeds and so they passed by without incident. Afternoon headed quickly into evening and despite the anxiety the smooth driving lulled Dean into a light sleep. It wasn't until he was woken by the justling of a gravel driveway that he realized where they were headed. "Bobby's How long have you been driving?"
"14 hours, but I let our new friend out for a bathroom break right after you fell asleep." John smiled as Dean had only seen him used in the middle hunting something especially hideous.
The car bumbled to a halt, gravel spreading from under the tires. It didn't take long for the screen door to open and Bobby Singer to come stomping out, a flannel thrown over a t-shirt and shotgun poised. He looked a lot better than last time Dean had seen him.
"It's just us Bobby" Dean called out while opening his door. "Well, and some company." He nodded at the trunk which was now quiet.
Bobby raised an eyebrow but before he could ask John was unlatching and hauling the guy out by his collar.
"What the hell John? You better have a damn good explanation for this or you are a crazier son-of-a-bitch than I thought." Bobby growled, grabbing the man and helping John get him inside. Dean followed along behind after hauling up the overnight bags from the trunk (which John had been wise enough to throw some padlocks on) he listened closely, eager for the explanation, but John didn't say anything.
They walked into the home, and then down into the 'panic room' floor stained with blood from previous monster interrogation. The man paled at the sight and Dean didn't blame him, the room was intimidating as fuck.
"Please." his voice pitched like a teenager "I don't know anything else, I told you everything." He struggled as John pushed him into the wall and nodded at Dean who couldn't help the spike of guilt as he shackled the shaking man. Guy probably thought he was about to be tortured to death.
"I'll deal with you later." John gestured for everyone to leave before slamming the iron door shut and bolting it into place.
"Do you have to be so dramatic?" Bobby scowled, arms crossed as he glared at John. Dean knew it was in jest, at least he hoped.
"I'll be the one holding you back from that bastard's throat pretty soon." John snarked, clambering upstairs into the living room where he flopped on the beat up couch, eyes closed before he landed. It was then that Dean realized his father had to have been up well over 24 hours, it was practically a miracle that they made the drive safely.
"We can do this in the morning." Dean offered up, he hated the idea of waiting but his dad was crashing hard.
"No, just coffee." John gruffed, popping an eye open to squint at Dean, who nodded heading towards the kitchen.
A hand halted on his chest stopping his mission "Already got it brewing." Bobby sat in his old rocking recliner and leaned back. "Now while we wait you can tell me why you woke me up at 4 in the morning with what has to be several felonies."
John didn't open his eyes as he leaned back to answer. "He ain't gonna tell, even if we let him go. I got dirt that'll land his ass in prison." John smirked a little.
"Ok, but it sounds like he told you everything he knows. Why drag him all the way here? You planning on beating some answers out of him?"
"Not if he was telling the truth. Dean, black backpack in the backseat."
Dean didn't need further explanation he quickly got up and headed out the door into the cold night. The sun was now just starting to brighten the horizon and the frost sparkled in the dull light. He found the bag quickly, he didn't recognise it, it was black with a sleek design like a school bag and far nicer than anything John would normally pick up. He grabbed it and headed back inside to find Bobby pouring coffee into a strainer.
"Met up with him on a small lead, heard he could sell material and had a new stock." John was speaking in a slow and serious tone but his body remained relaxed. "The description of the stuff matched Sam, but I couldn't check and I wasn't about to let the guy go until I knew for sure."
Dean grabbed the mugs that Bobby handed to him and passed one to his father who sat up to take it with a grunt up approval. "What do you mean you need to check?" Dean asked, adrenaline spiking. This was an actual legitimate lead. The first one they had for weeks.
John rached for the backpack from Dean, the couch creaking with the shift of his weight. He pulled out a VHS tape and nodded at Bobby. "You got a player right?"
"Ya, got one for the kids." Bobby frowned. "What's on it?"
John shrugged. "Nothing good, but just need to check if it's Sam." he turned to Dean. "Go upstairs."
Dean gawked, jaw hanging open. "No! Dad I need to see-"
"Why?" John barked. "If this is your brother Dean then you don't need to see."
Dean ground his teeth, fists clenching. "I deserve to know what's happening to him." He growled.
"So that you can torture yourself?" John sat up, staring Dean hard in the eyes. "You are my son and you will do as I say, now go upstairs."
Dean opened his mouth to argue but the hand John held up stopped him. "I promise, if there's something you need to know or see you'll be told right away."
Dean stared desperately at Bobby, hoping that he would speak up but Bobby just gave a 'sorry I can't help you' shrug and Dean turned, storming up the stairs and slamming the bedroom door.
"Couldn't have been a bit more gentle with him?" Bobby grumbled into his coffee.
"Dean doesn't do gentle, not when it comes to Sam." John laid back, his face going from stern to exhausted. "Where's your player?"
"I'll get it, you look like you're just about passed out." Bobby stood up and grabbed the VHS from John's hand. It took a moment for Bobby to set the player up, cords were poking out everywhere and he didn't know what channel he needed to be turned to. "Dean always did this." he grumbled before finally getting a static image to appear.
It was hard to make out, the film was poor quality and showcased a dingly dressed up motel room with a bed in the middle. A young boy was on it but the features were blurry. Both John and Bobby leaned in closer, squinting at the static.
"It's the right size." Bobby breathed, trying to make out the shifting form.
"Brown hair." John agreed solemnly, lips pressed tightly together.
A man came into view, large and intimidating he approached the boy, coming up from behind the bed keeping the film focused on the child.
"That's one of them." Bobby growled, tensing up. "He doesn't have the hat but I can tell. One of the bastards that took Sam."
John reached forward and pressed the eject button, pausing the video instantly. And stuffing the VHS tape into the backpack.
Bobby just remained silent, watching the pent up John Winchester zip the bag up violently before throwing it into a corner. "I'm heading down to feed our new friend then I'll crash in the basement just in case." he grumbled.
"Head upstairs to bed idjit, I'll throw the bastard some dinner he ain't gonna escape out of that even if he wasn't human."
John gave Bobby a shrug, closest to a thank you the man ever got and stumbled up the stairs.
Dean stared up at the popcorn ceiling listening to the grumbles below. He couldn't make out a thing even with the door cracked, whatever they saw either it was nothing or it wasn't long because he soon heard the creaking footsteps of a tired John Winchester as the man went into the other bedroom/storage.
It was harder than Dean had thought to be here in one bed, trying not to look at the bed next to him, the one that was missing a very Sammy shaped figure curled up under the covers. He tried not to think about it but every time he closed his eyes images of Sam suffering, screaming, crying his name, being molested.
It was quiet now, his father's rumbling snoring could be heard through the wall. He waited, straining his airs for signs of life but heard nothing. Slipping out of the bed he slowly creaked open the door, making sure to lift as he pulled to minimize the creaking. He held his breath, waiting for his Dad to wake up but the exhaustion must have been dulling his normally light sleep.
The stairs were a challenge, but years of growing up and sneaking lucky-charms in the middle of the night were paying off as Dean knew exactly which steps to skip and where to step. He made it down the stairs without a sound and scanned the living room. After checking the VHS player to find it empty he dreaded his dad must have it with him, but then he spotted the bag half thrown under a chair. Success. He grabbed the tape, it had barely been played, and popped it in.
He turned the volume knob before turning on the TV wincing at the static sound that might as well have been thunder. He glanced towards the stairs with dread, breath held then released as the faint sound of snoring seeped down the hall.
He pressed play, breath held as the screen moved into motion. There was a boy, even without details Dean knew it had to be Sam, because the man hovering above him was the cowboy. Dean's blood burned hot as he watched, eyes glued to the screen unable to turn away. The man leaned down, whispering something to the boy who rolled, head lulling towards the camera.
Whatever part of Dean that was holding out hope that this wasn't Sam instantly became crushed. Sam's eyes stared right at him. There was no fear, there was nothing. Dull eyes that stared without seeing.
The man began undressing Sam, pulling open a shirt leaning down. The quality wasn't good enough to make out details but Dean didn't need them his imagination knew exactly where and what those hands were touching. Cowboy got on top of Sam, straddling him and smiling. He looked into the camera and Dean's breath caught.
Yellow eyes stared back at him.
"Dean Winchester, what the hell are you doing?" Bobby Singer's voice came low and slow but Dean jumped all the same, hands instantly started fumbling with the power and the TV switched off. Turning, face pale, to face the wrath of Bobby singer.
There was no wrath in Bobby's face, only a deep sadness. "I wish you hadn't done that." he sighed, pressing the eject button and grabbing the tape. "You didn't need to see him like that."
"It's him Bobby." Dean stammered, mind still reeling from what he had seen. After over a decade without a wif the demon was back.
"I know, son." Bobby gave a sad smile. "I know it seems like bad news but finding Sam is actually a good thing."
"No, not sam." Dean shook his head. "Yellow eyes."
Bobby's eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to protest, but Dean snatched the tape and started spooling it back, just a bit. "Just watch."
"Son I don't need to see-"
"Watch." Dean interrupted, pushing the tape in and pressing play. "Look at his eyes."
Bobby did watch, and as the Cowboy turned he saw the eyes, they didn't just flash yellow like a lighting flare, they clearly switched to a vibrant glowing yellow before turning back.
"You're right." Bobby said as Dean ejected the film. "Whether or not that is the demon that killed your mama, that thing sure as hell ain't human."
"I'll get John," Dean said, jumping up.
"No, there's nothing we can do tonight and we all need rest. Tomorrow we find out where that tape came from and we go after that thing."