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Sam takes the room keys proffered by the motel clerk with the suspicious stain on the front of his shirt.
The clerk smiles a weird smile that has Sam's stomach turning itself into knots even though he has no idea why.
The room is small, the atmosphere stifling, the lighting dinging and Sam knows that this is the kind of place you can rent by the hour. As he pulls out his laptop he wonders, not for the first time, what the hell he is doing, on a wild goose chase for someone he doesn't even know exists. The only thing he does know is that it feels like some part of him is missing and that Dean Winchester holds the key to what the part is.
As the laptop whirs into life, Sam feels a bit of the weight on his shoulders lift. And as he scours the internet for any clue as to where Dean might be, Sam almost feels the edges of the holes closing together, pulling closer to each other, forging tentative stitches that might just hold.
That night Sam dreams of Dean again.
“What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad. You're both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit.” An older man is practically shouting at Dean and Dean looks defensive. Sam wants to step up, wants to reach out and protect him from the accusing eyes of the older man.
“That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? It's like my life could mean something.” Dean is begging Bobby to understand. And Sam knows that Dean is trying to get Bobby to understand that he couldn't live without Sam and Sam wants to cry again.
“What? And it didn't before?! Have you got that low of an opinion of yourself? Are you that screwed in the head?!” Bobby looks like he wants to smack Dean into next week and Sam suddenly feels on the man's side, suddenly understands that Bobby is right, that Dean is screwed in the head even though he still wants to reach out to Dean who looks so stricken. But he stays in the shadows, always in the shadows, watching Dean break in front of his eyes.
“I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother.” Sam, in his dream, falls to his knees. The realisation of what Dean is saying hits him hard. But its what Bobby says next that pierces his soul like an arrow.
“And now he wont even remember you.”
Sam barely heard the next words over the roar in his ears. The knowledge that Dean was his brother, that Dean had sold his soul for him, even in his dreams, Sam knew it sounded crazy, like something out of a soap opera, but some how he knew it was true, knew he had someone who loved him more than anything else in the world, loved him enough to damn their mortal soul to save him. Sam lifted his head to Dean and Bobby and felt tears rolling down his cheeks, landing on the backs of his hands.
“So what are you going to do now?” Bobby was asking Dean. Dean shrugged, looking once again helpless.
“I was thinking I could stay here?” Dean said, asked and Bobby nodded placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Stay as long as you need, son. Let's see if we can figure something out.” Sam looked desperately around, feeling the pull of reality in his stomach, knowing he wouldn't be here much longer, looking for anything to tell him where Dean was, the need to find him taking over everything else.
The sign that read Singer Salvage Yard was the last thing he saw before harsh reality came flooding back like a sledgehammer to his head.
Sam rubs his temples, lying on the scratch motel sheets, the headache that always came somehow was worse this time.
Ignoring the blinding pain when he stood up, Sam makes his way over to the small table in the corner of the room. The streetlamps from the small carpark shine through the thin curtains and make to room look like something out of a nightmare. His laptop lies open where he had left it and he quickly types Singer Salvage Yard into a search engine.
He sighs, and a small smile plays on his lips, the first one since this whole thing had started. Dean is in South Dakota.
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Dean feels like he hasn't slept a wink all night and when the pale fingers of dawn slip through the crack in the curtains in Bobby's
lounge, he sighs for the 100th time.
His head hurts, his stomach hurts, his chest hurts. He feels like he has gone three rounds with Mike Tyson and lost every single one.
He swallows yet another handful of Excedrin, his diet had consisted of Excedrin and alcohol since Sammy had been...again, his mind wouldn't finish the sentence. He had spent all night thinking, coming to the conclusion that it is best for Sam to be where he is, even though Dean's fingers almost itch with the need to feel his brother, to touch and make sure he is still there next to him, laughing at him in the way that used to make Dean's very soul smile with him.
The creak on the stairs makes him snap his gaze up and wince at the pain in his head. Bobby stands in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his face.
“Did you sleep at all?” He asks. Dean shrugs his patented Dean Winchester “I'm fine, nothing bothers me” shrug.
“I'll put the coffee on.” Bobby says after a long look that Dean doesn't want to even try to decipher, so he follows him into the kitchen, wishing that Sam was behind him, bitching about the lack of sleep.
“What are you gonna do?” Bobby asks again after too much silence, both of them staring into their coffee cups, hands wrapped around them like they would have the answers. Dean shrugs again.
“Simple salt and burn not 30 miles from here.” Bobby suggests and Dean looks at him. Bobby shrugs. “I was heading out when you turned up yesterday, figured you were more important.” Dean wants to cry at that. Bobby just continues, his hands still wrapped around his mug. “Besides, spirit's not hurt anyone, just pissing people off. Maybe it'll do you good?”
Dean shrugs again, incapable of conversation this early in the morning. Come to think of it, he hasn't spoken much to anyone since Sam.
“Dean...” Bobby starts. Dean stands, the noise of the chair scraping against the floor makes them both wince.
“I'll do it ok?” He says. He doesn't want another lecture. He doesn't want to talk. He wants Sam and if that can't happen, he wants to kill something, burn their bones, the smell of gas filling his nostrils and the heat of the fire burning his face, because at least that would mean he would feel something other than the dull ache in his chest.
And Bobby is staring at him again, and it makes Dean want to punch him.
“I'll fill you in.” He says and Dean nods and sits down, listening to Bobby explaining the job.
And the normality of it all, of Bobby explaining a job, sitting in the kitchen that has become more of a home than anywhere he had ever been, might just get him through this nightmare that he suddenly feels his life has become. Now with Dad gone, Sam gone all Dean has is the hunt. But Dean isn't quite ready to admit that. So he gets up from the table, ignoring Bobby's confused look, and walks out the front door into the salvage yard.
He sits down on the Impala, where he and Sam had sat so many times, and he watches the sun rise in the distance.
And it almost feels normal, and it almost makes him feel happier, except there is one vital thing missing from this equation. Sam. And no amount of planning and salting and burning is ever going to make that better, is ever going to make him happier, but it just might get him through.
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*hugs you*
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"He doesn't want another lecture. He doesn't want to talk. He wants Sam and if that can't happen, he wants to kill something, burn their bones, the smell of gas filling his nostrils and the heat of the fire burning his face, because at least that would mean he would feel something other than the dull ache in his chest."
I feel all achey for my Deano. Bring Sammy back! Now! And make them have smex or something to make me... um, I mean THEM feel better. Make them feel better. ;)
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And Dean wanting MORE than just a hello...if you catch my drift!
*squeees excitedly about writing that*
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I am writing it now actually!
xox
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Well I am off to work now. I expect it to be waiting in my inbox or on my flist when I get home. You hear that, Margot?
God, I'm demanding this morning, aren't I?
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Oh, ouch. Poor Dean. I'm pleased that Sam's got that final piece of the puzzle now - I can't wait to see Dean's reaction when Sam finds him.
Great work sweetie, I'm really enjoying this. :D
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But I am glad you like it angel. There is another chapter up now.
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I saw, read and commented (sneaky, posting that while I was reading this). ;)
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Sneaky posting indeed! *giggles*
*skips away innocently*
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*smirks*
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Your icon reminds me of Broken Heart Verse! *shivers*
*runs of to re-read*
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That's where it came from, curtesy of
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Hmmmmm...interesting thought
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You need to be very bendy indeed. I've seen porn with guys who are able to blow someone else's trumpet while, er... *ahem*
*shuffles feet*
Yeah, so, nice weather we're having, eh?
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*blinks and tries to look innocent*
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Porn Queen!
xx
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Busted again.
It would probably amuse you to know that many moons ago, on a long forgotten forum, my name/nickmane was Queen of Smut!
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HAHAHA
Great minds...swim the same gutter!
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Hey now, some of us look up to the gutter! ;)
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xx