According to the GPS, Dean was a few blocks away from the street where he believed Jess Moore, Sammy's girlfriend, lived. Dean had never met her. He'd seen pictures, though, and she was gorgeous. What she saw in Sammy was anyone's guess. Still, they had a good thing. The last time they'd been together as a family, Sam had strongly hinted that he might ask Jess to marry him. The couple was close. If anyone might know how to find Sammy now, Jess was the one.
The problem was, Dean wasn't sure how he'd find her. What he was looking for? A house that looked like it contained college girls? What would that even look like? Dean was fairly certain he had the street name right, but the house number was another story. He supposed he'd start by just driving down the street, looking left and right at the houses. While he looked, he'd try to find someone outside to ask about where he could find Jess. Dean was young enough that he figured he could pass for a college kid looking for a friend. Someone like Jess was bound to be noticed. It was the best he could come up with for now.
The night was dark and cold. The air had a bad smell to it, like something was burning. Probably someone burning garbage somewhere. Dean was surprised, though. This was a nice neighborhood and by now, it seemed everyone was indoors. It would make it harder for Dean to ask questions for sure. The idea that someone would pick now to burn garbage didn't make much sense. Still, at least it meant someone would surely be outside. Only an idiot would burn garbage and not keep an eye on it.
He came up to the last intersection before the street he wanted, made the turn, and almost immediately pulled over. The smell of smoke and soot was heavy in the air. It was much stronger here, and what he was looking at now explained why. It wasn't someone burning garbage. Halfway down the street he could see flashing lights illuminating yellow crime scene tape. Police had the road blocked, keeping traffic away. Fire trucks were in the process of pulling out, weary-looking firemen hanging off of them. There were plenty of people out milling around in the dark despite the chill in the air. Most of them were walking away, although some stood in small groups talking. Everyone looked grim.
Dean cautiously got out and started toward the scene. An overwhelming sense of dread was washing over him. This was the street where Jess lived. He was sure of that. What were the odds that a fire would happen, apparently a bad one, on the same street where she lived not even a week after her boyfriend went missing? Something was wrong.
Approaching a small group of rubberneckers, Dean said, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Jessica Moore. I think she lives on this street?"
Everyone in hearing turned and stared at him, odd expressions on their faces. The man he'd spoken to looked acutely uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I hate to be the one to tell you this," he began reluctantly, "but that was her house that just burned down. They said they found four bodies inside, and I know there were three girls living here. Sorry, buddy."
Four bodies. Three girls living there. Dean stared at the man, numb. "Did they identify the bodies?" he managed.
"Doesn't seem that way. Look," the man sighed, "you should go talk to one of the cops about this if you want more information."
Talking to the cops was the last thing Dean wanted to do. Looking ahead, he eyed the cop that was assisting the fire trucks in pulling out. "I'll do that," Dean lied. "Thanks for letting me know."
"Maybe you should sit down?" a woman in the group suggested. "You've gone white as a sheet."
"Thank you, I'll be alright." Dean was anything but alright. His legs were wobbly, barely managing to carry him forward toward the house. Sammy, gone? Burned up in a house fire? But Sammy was the smart one, the brother with all the potential, the one who was going to become a big shot lawyer. How could this have happened? Had Ketch done this? Dean couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of his brother being gone. Nothing felt real, like he was in a nightmare he couldn't get out of. All he could do was keep moving, forcing one foot in front of the other until he had a good view of his destination.
The house had been completely gutted. All that remained were some charred studs and pipes sticking up out of the smoking ruins. Water dipped from blackened structural supports, reflecting the red and blue lights of the first responders. The remaining firefighters were carefully poking through the rubble, ensuring the fire was out or maybe looking for more bodies. Close to the house, a van labeled "CORONER" was getting ready to leave. Two men were talking quietly to each other as they closed the back of the van. Before the doors closed, Dean spotted a large bag on a gurney inside. The men climbed into the van, started the engine, and carefully drove away. Dean stared after it blankly. Four bodies. Three girls living in the house. Who was the fourth body?
"I'm coming to you live from the scene of a deadly fire that claimed the lives of four victims."
Dean turned toward the voice. He saw a TV news reporter to his right, speaking into a microphone, facing a camera that was aimed at the house. He stared at her.
"Although it is too early in the investigation to make an official finding of arson, neighbors have reported seeing a group of people throwing incendiary devices at the home and leaving. We have also learned that some neighbors have reported hearing what sounded like gunshots shortly before the blaze started."
Gunshots. Incendiary devices. That screamed "military" to Dean, or at least paramilitary. He stared at the ruins of the house in shocked horror. Four bodies. If Sammy was here, what had happened? Had his brother been tortured for information about Dean that he didn't have? Did he suffer? Had he been shot and killed before the fire was set, or was he left to die painfully in the flames? Dean's stomach churned. Sammy, the little boy he'd basically raised while their father had been busy with his military career. Sammy, the bright, smiling student who brought home his papers for Dean to praise and hang proudly on the fridge. Sam, now taller than his brother, yelling at Dean and telling him not to contact him again the last time they'd been together. Their last words had been spoken in anger. Dean had never had the chance to tell his brother how much he loved him, how proud Dean was of everything that he'd done. Now was his chance gone?
"Police and fire officials have not released the names of the victims, nor have they confirmed that they have been identified," the reporter continued. "However, our sources report that all four victims are females between the ages of…"
Dean's legs gave out, dropping him roughly onto the ground. He was shaking, relief making him limp. Four females. Apparently, they'd had a friend over, but it was another girl, not Sammy. You're alive, Sammy. Please be ok!
Getting up on wobbly legs, Dean started walking back to Baby. Unfortunately, even though Sammy might be alive, Dean had just lost his best lead on how to find him. He had no more ideas, no more clues to chase down. Wherever Sammy was now, Dean didn't know how to reach him. Well, he thought as he dug his keys out of his pocket, at least there was hope. Maybe if he…
A hand suddenly clamped over Dean's mouth. An arm locked across his chest, trapping his arms. Dean struggled instinctively but found himself dragged back, into the shadow of a house where no one on the street could see him. He managed to stomp on his attacker's foot, then kicked savagely at a shin. Nothing, just a hiss in Dean's ear. Fine. Dean stopped struggling, raising his hands as much as he could, and waited for his attacker to let him go.
"Stay calm," a voice whispered in his ear. "Now, I'm…"
As his attacker spoke, he'd relaxed his grip on Dean a little. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Dean to twist, almost getting free.
"No you don't," the voice hissed. He threw Dean down onto the ground, clamping an arm tightly around his neck. "I think it's time you took a little nap."
Darkness.
"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey! Good morning, Sunshine."
Dean whimpered. He didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded like an Englishman. He opened his eyes, grimaced in the light, blinked, and focused on a grinning face above his own. Messy blonde hair that nearly rivaled Cass's. Blue eyes, lighter than Cass's and full of mischief. Lips twisted into a smirk. "Wh'r you?" Dean groaned.
"Balthazar's the name, darling," the man said, bowing with a foppish flourish of one hand. "And you must be Dean Winchester."
Dean grimaced. "Ok, Balthazar, who the hell are you?"
"Why, I just told you!" Balthazar repeated his bow, complete with flourish. "I believe we have a mutual acquaintance."
"Dean?"
Dean sucked in his breath, eyes opening wide at the familiar voice. "Sammy?"
"Dean!"
Dean turned around just in time to get glomped by his big little brother. He hugged Sam tightly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Sam! I thought I'd lost you."
"You almost did," Sam admitted, finally letting go and taking a step back. "Dean, some people are after me from the military. If it wasn't for Balthazar, I'd…" He shook his head. "I knew I couldn't reach you or Dad because I was afraid it would put you both in danger, so I reached out to Kate."
"Kate?" Dean asked, frowning at the mention of their stepmother. "Wait, what am I missing here? What do you mean, you were afraid it would put us in danger?"
"I'm trying to tell you! After the military goons came after me, I reached out to Kate. I thought, being a diplomat, she might be able to help," Sam explained. "But Dean, she's the only one who knew where I was hiding. They came after me again, and Balthazar and I barely got away that time."
Dean shook his head. "Dude, you can't really blame that on Kate. I mean, I figured out you'd be with your girlfriend and I'm…"
"I wasn't with J-J-Jess," Sam managed. Tears had started flowing freely down his face. "I was in Utah, far away from everywhere and everyone I knew. And they found me, Dean. They came after me. Balthazar got us out of there in the nick of time. They almost had us, even though no one was supposed to know where we were. That's when I knew Kate was somehow part of it, probably through her work, and everyone I knew was in danger."
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sam, this isn't on you, ok?"
But Sam was like a dam that had burst. He barely seemed to register that Dean had spoken, words tumbling out of his mouth in a frantic torrent. "That's when I called Jess, told her to meet me," he blurted. "We came straight out here to get her. We didn't even stop for anything but gas, but I was still too late! They killed her, Dean, they killed four people because of me and she's dead, Jess is dead, and it's all because of…!"
"Sam, Sam! This has nothing to do with you," Dean insisted. "All of this shit is my fault."
Sam blinked at him. After a moment, he rolled his eyes and gave a dry chuckle. "Oh Dean, whatever you did this time doesn't even compare to what I've done," he declared, shaking his head. "I just can't figure out how they found out! I mean, we were so careful." He looked at Balthazar. "What did we do wrong?"
"Frankly, I've no idea," Balthazar admitted. The Englishman had some sort of spinning toy with strings that he was making spin between his fingers, causing the images on either side to blur into one. "All I know is that we're all really in the shit."
"Um, what?" Dean looked blankly from Balthazar to Sam and back. "Seriously, what am I missing here? Sammy, what the hell did you do? No, wait," he corrected, shaking his head. "Tell me later. First, we need to get out of…" He looked around, seeing windows with most of the glass broken out, dirty walls and floors, and graffiti everywhere. Drug paraphernalia crunched beneath his boot, the sound echoing through the labyrinthine corridors of the empty building. "Where are we?"
"An abandoned shopping mall," Balthazar reported, still playing with his toy. "Home sweet home for now. It's a bit drafty, rather gloomy, and the neighborhood's utter shite, but at least it's a roof overhead, right?"
Dean looked frantic. "Where's my car?!"
Sam groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. "Relax, Dean, we parked it in the old food court. Does Dad know you're driving his Impala?"
"Dad and I aren't exactly on speaking terms," Dean admitted, avoiding his brother's eyes.
Dean didn't have to look up. He could feel the bitch face his brother was giving him. "Now what did you do?! It must have been a real doozy this time, if you honestly thought what was happening with me had anything to do with you."
"Dude, you have no idea," Dean groaned. "Take me to my Baby and I'll explain everything on the trip back."
"In the morning," Balthazar called. He finally put his toy back into a breast pocket and stood up. "You don't seem to realize it, but it's 0130. Past time for a bit of shut eye. And before you both start insisting that you won't be able to sleep a wink," he continued as both brothers opened their mouths, "allow me to point out something neither one of you seems to be thinking about." He pointed at Sam. "Sam just lost the woman he loves." He paused, eyes looking at Sam in sympathy as the taller man choked back a sob. "As you can see, Dean, the pain is still very, very fresh. Your brother is not in any condition to do much of anything at all at present. He needs a moment to catch his breath, and you're bloody well going to give it to him."
"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, glaring at the other man. "I never heard Sam say anything about a Balthazar, and now you're here in the middle of all this shit, thinking it's somehow at least partly your fault? Sammy's studying to become a lawyer. Where did you even come from?"
"That's all part and parcel of what we're dealing with now." Balthazar moved quickly past Dean to put his arms around Sammy. He whispered quietly to the taller man and Sammy seemed to all but collapse against him. "Help me, would you? There's a mate."
Dean quickly got on Sam's other side. Letting Balthazar take the lead, he helped his broken brother to lie down on an old, dirty mattress in one corner. Balthazar pulled a tattered blanket over him with surprising gentleness. "Rest now," he said softly. "Let yourself grieve. Your brother and I will be right here with you."
Sam clutched at the other man's hand, smiling up at him through his tears. Not letting go, Sam's eyes went to Dean. "I'm so, so sorry, Dean," he sniffed. "But I'm glad you're here right now."
"I'm just glad you're ok," Dean said. "Like he said, we'll be here, but we're going to go around the corner and talk. If you need…"
"Your brother needs you now," Balthazar insisted. "There was a time when you were the only real family he had. Be that family for him again."
Balthazar certainly knew how to hit below the belt. Dean gave him a look that promised retribution, but Balthazar simply stared him down. Finally, Dean sighed. "I need to text my friend and let him know I'm ok. He's probably frantic by now."
Balthazar stiffened. "Someone else knows you're here?"
"Listen, pal, I don't even know where I am!" Dean exclaimed. "My friend knows that I came out looking for Sam. He's probably been wondering what happened to me. I need to let him know I'm ok. In fact, I should probably just call him so he hears my voice."
"That is a stupid move, Dean!" Balthazar spat. "The more people who…"
"Let him call his friend," Sam ordered. "Imagine how you would feel if I went missing suddenly?"
Dean still wasn't sure exactly who Balthazar was, but apparently, he cared enough about Sam to look guilty. "Alright, call him, but keep it short," he ordered. He reached into a pocket and produced Dean's phone. Dean hadn't even realized he'd been pickpocketed. "I can see this is a burner, so that's good," Balthazar explained, handing it over. "But it's still best to keep your calls as short as possible."
"We seriously need to talk," Dean warned.
Balthazar waved a hand. "Later, darling."
Dean gave him a dirty look, turned away, and quickly called Cass. The dragon answered on the first ring. "Dean! What happened?"
"I found Sammy," Dean reported. "He's with some asshole who's apparently keeping him safe, but that's pretty much all I know. I'll come get you tomorrow."
There was some rustling over the phone. Dean suspected Castiel was out of bed, doing something not conducive to resting. "I don't understand," Cass complained. "Why are you with an asshole? I can sense that you're upset, are you in trouble? Is someone forcing you…?"
"I'm fine, buddy, I promise," Dean soothed. Damned dragon magic. Even if Cass couldn't communicate with him telepathically over this great of a distance, apparently their bond was still strong enough that the dragon could tell Dean was upset. Too bad that didn't work both ways so Dean could be sure Cass was alright. He didn't like the slight wheeze he could hear over the phone when Cass breathed. For some reason, it was especially loud when the dragon spoke. "You sound awful," Dean commented. "Are you getting lots of rest and fluids?"
Cass huffed. "Yes, resting, drinking fluids, taking my vitamins and eating well. Don't worry about me when you're with an asshole!"
That made Dean smile. "I promise I'm alright. I gotta go, but I will come and get you tomorrow. I paid for two nights so you should be fine until then. Did you eat your sandwiches?"
"Yes."
"Good." Dean's voice grew soft, thinking fondly of his dragon. "Rest and get better. Good night."
"Good night, Dean."
"The asshole would like to thank you for keeping your conversation brief, although I cannot phantom what is going on between you and your boyfriend that is important enough to risk your brother's life," Balthazar commented. "Is he that good of a lay?"
Dean gave him the finger. Balthazar rolled his eyes at him. Ignoring the other man, Dean went to the mattress and laid down behind Sam, putting his arm over his brother. "I'm here, Sammy."
Dean hadn't seen his brother cry since he was a small child. It seemed he cried for hours before he finally fell asleep. Before he knew it, Dean was sleeping as well.
