Summary: AU. 'Fourteen years I waited for you to find me Dean. I gave up on this family a long time ago.' After a hunting accident split the Winchester men apart, Dean finally nears the end of the hunt for his brother and father.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, it's all owned by Eric Kripke and them at CW. Written for pleasure, not profit.
Never Setting Sun
"Dean," the gentle gruffness to his father's voice was unable to get his eyes from the swinging doors as a large hand rested gently on his shoulder.
"Dean," the call again, and he swivelled his eyes, green meeting brown as his father stared down at him.
"Son," John started, paused, eyes moving to look beyond Dean, to look to the swinging doors "Son, I've gotta go and sort this out, alright? Watch over Sammy until this all gets sorted." Dean's eyes moved briefly to look beyond his father, focused briefly on the two policemen that stood close by, and then his gaze returned to his father and he nodded his affirmation once.
"Thank you," John whispered, drawing Dean into a sudden hug, the boy standing rigid in shock "Everything will turn out alright," John continued in his ear "I'll see you and Sammy soon." The strength of the hug increased for the barest of moments, and then the arms left, John's presence fading as the man walked over to the police and all three left.
Dean was ignorant to his father's departure, his attention once again solely on the finally closed and still doors that his little brother had been rushed through only moments before.
The guitar solo of War Pigs sang out over the chorus Back in Black, and he shifted his weight, awkwardly dragging his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and flipping it open as he pulled it to his ear
"Winchester," he said simply, tilting his head and raising his shoulder to hold the phone in place, hand travelling to the knob of the cassette player to bring the volume down to a tolerable level before it travelled to join his other hand at the steering wheel.
"Dean," the voice was recognisable, familiar, and briefly Dean allowed himself a smile, hand again moving and turning the volume further down, fingers grasping the wheel again just in time to take him round a bend
"Pastor Jim," he acknowledged, his fingers had began tapping out the beat of a Metallica track without his realising, drumming steadily against the wheel as the car roared down the road.
"Dean, Joshua and Caleb were doing a joint hunt a few weeks back, some place in Ohio, we may have a lead."
"May have?" Dean repeated, a lump was forming in his throat; the drum beat of his fingers growing faster, the tune no longer distinguishable.
"Don't get your hopes up Dean, but a boy a few years back got a full-ride into a university, Stanford. He was in the town paper at the time; they found it in the archives. Dean? They're sure it's Sam."
The drum beat stopped, Dean's knuckles turned white as his grip on the wheel tightened, his foot slamming onto the brake pedal, the car squealing to a stop as his body jolted forwards, the cell phone flying from the precarious hold he'd had on it, clattering to a rest somewhere at his feet.
For a minute he sat silent, barely aware that he'd stopped, dis-interested in the fact that his was in the middle of the road, not even thinking of how lucky he was that it was a back road he'd been driving on, the last car he'd seen had been some hour and a half previously, all he was thinking of was that they'd got a lead. They fixed a location on Sam. They'd found Sammy.
Finally, he regained his equilibrium, fished the cell from between his feet, started the car back up as he pulled the phone to his ear, driving slower now, not daring to speak for a moment, just listened as Jim repeatedly called his name.
"Jim?" he croaked out eventually, his fingers had started to beat out the Metallica tune again, his entire body was trembling slightly.
"Are you alright, Dean?" the preacher asked kindly, and Dean felt a slow smile start across his face
"Yeah," he breathed, "I'm in Utah. I'll head out to California now. Thank Caleb and Josh for me." He didn't listen for a response, just ended the call, tossed the phone onto the seat beside him, a grin forming on his face as he turned the volume of the cassette deck up, turned the car in a sharp u-turn so that it faced the road he'd just travelled, his fingers drummed out one final beat of the song, and then he was gunning the motor.
He was going to get his brother back.