The Illusionist


Something wasn't right. Call it a gut feeling, intuition, or whatever it was; but he knew something was wrong.

He quickened his pace, tightening his grip on the greasy bag that contained their dinner. Somewhere in the back of his mind though, he had a feeling it would remain uneaten tonight.

The cold rain started to come down harder, the fat drops mercilessly stinging the back of his hands and neck. The twenty-two year old shivered involuntarily, something just shy of relief flooding his system as the motel room he was currently sharing with his father and brother came into view.

Fishing the key from the pocket of his over-sized brown leather jacket, Dean opened the door and stepped in, shaking the water off his dripping frame. He was ready for a joke from Sam, the younger hunter comparing him to a wet dog or something along those lines, but instead he was met with the sight of his father and brother shouting in each other's faces.

He tried desperately to understand what they were saying, but their mouths were moving so fast, that it was an impossible task. His eyes darted to the hearing aide that lay on the nightstand, but ultimately, he knew it wouldn't help. Their shouts would only sound like muffled whispers, the device only managing to pick up so much with the severity of his hearing loss.

Dean's brow furrowed as he moved closer to them, taking in the fact that both men's faces were reddening in color, and even though he was deaf, he could tell by the veins popping out in both their throats that the argument was growing louder and more intense.

He wanted to scream and shout too, tell them to shut up and stop behaving like children, but at this point, his efforts would have fallen short. Hell, they hadn't even realized he was in the room with them yet.

His green orbs danced back and forth between the two Winchesters, taking note that the younger was shoving what looked like a letter into the other one's hardened face. This action resulted in the elder man's features somehow managing to darken yet again, veins now clearly showcasing themselves in his forehead as well.

Dean could feel the panic start to tighten in his chest. He'd seen his family argue before, but something about this argument in particular seemed different. There was something in his father's eyes he couldn't quite place, an emotion that John had disguised well since their mother had died; pain.

The piece of paper Sam was continuing to use as his shield caught Dean's attention once more, leaving him wondering what the hell was so bad about the thing that it had caused this fight.

Sure, the eldest and youngest Winchesters had been arguing quite a bit in the past few years, even more so lately, but it was almost to be expected. After all, Sam had just turned eighteen and was a full-fledged adult now; but then again, it didn't help that he was just as stubborn as John, if not more.

But now, it looked as though the fight might actually turn physical, and that was definitely something that had never happened before.

Even though he still had a few accidental bruises from their last bout, Dean moved forward, forcing himself in between the two men, all the while ignoring the split second of confusion that graced both their visages.

"What is going on?" The twenty-two year old signed to his brother, attempting to distract the kid long enough to take his attention away from their father. He silently pleaded with Sam, his green eyes swimming in misery. Dean hated to see them fight, and the fact that his little brother refused to meet his gaze only signified how bad their current situation truly was.

"Sammie?" He tried again, inwardly hoping that would grab the teenager's awareness, knowing how much he hated the childhood nickname. Instead of receiving an explanation of what was going on, he was met with a two word response; one he was definitely not expecting.

"I'm leaving."

Dean shook his head, fully knowing his eyes were not deceiving him, but all the while praying he had read those stubborn lips wrong.

"You're kidding, right?" The twenty-two year old asked, immediately stepping in front of Sam, and blocking his path to the fully packed duffel that lay on the already made bed. "You're not actually leaving, right?" He frantically searched Sam's face for an answer, but received nothing in return. Slowly, the bold letters on the piece of paper his younger brother was holding came into view.

Stanford University

Dean's heart dropped as he read those two words over and over again, finally realizing what his father and brother were arguing about.

An odd sort of numbness replaced the panic that had been holding his chest captive, and with each passing second, it coursed throughout his bloodstream, rendering him temporarily immobile.

He watched as Sam moved past him and removed the duffel bag from the comfort of the bed. Watched as the brunette slung the green material over his shoulders and headed for the door, though his heart quickened as Sam hesitated at the threshold. Casting a quick glance at his father, he understood why.

"If you walk out that door, don't you even think about coming back."

And with that, Dean watched as all signs of reluctance disappeared from his younger brother's posture; the motel door opened and closed with obvious force, the cheap picture that was hanging on the wall now lay on the floor.

The young hunter stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Instantaneously, he ran to the door and threw it open, his mouth opening but no sound befalling his lips as he watched the yellow taxi carrying Sam disappear down the street.

He couldn't let his little brother just leave like that. He couldn't!

But before he could even take another step, he felt his father's strong hands clasp onto his shoulders, pulling him back inside. Dean fought wildly to escape John's iron grip, but it was no use, the elder Winchester was stronger.

"Stop it, Dean! Just stop it, Godammit!" John exclaimed, squeezing his son's upper arms so hard that there were sure to be bruises by morning. "He's made his choice, and he's not coming back so just deal with it!"

Dean kept his eyes closed, fully knowing that his father was screaming in his face, but he didn't really care what the man was saying. He just wanted his little brother back, and for everything to be normal, well, Winchester-normal anyway.

Slowly, he felt his father's grip loosen and the smell of coffee-laden breath fade away. Before he knew it, Dean was alone in the dingy motel room; his world all but laying in a million little pieces at his feet.

And there was any supernatural force in the world that could change it.

A/N : Okay, so I might be a little rusty cos it has been awhile, but I only hope I did the characters at least a little bit of justice. This story will be a WIP, so I hope I can keep whoever reads this entertained! :D Plenty of angst to come.