AN: So, this was originally a two part story but changed into a three part. The third chapter will hopefully be up soon, it may take me awhile because I am currently beta-less so I'll have to edit the next chapter and that may take me awhile. If anyone would like to volunteer to beta for me it would be greatly appreciated!
I hope you like this chapter and it doesn't disappoint! Let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter it helped my fingers type faster than they usually do :)
Desperation was not a word that belonged in his vocabulary, and yet here he was, desperate to find his brother who had left six months ago.
Dean knew it was a mutual decision, both deciding that it would be better if they went their separate ways. But after a few weeks of being alone, Castiel the only one he could turn to… it was just so wrong.
Cell phone heavy in his hand, he tried Sam's number again, not surprised when he was met with the cell phone provider, informing him that the number no longer existed. Throwing the phone to the empty passenger seat, Dean's hand rubbed hard at his exhausted eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept a full night.
Dean had always been so good at finding his brother, had always known every inch of his brother's mind. This time was different. He had no clue where his brother was, or where he was going.
Internal alarms had gone off when Dean had first started searching for his brother. Sam had patterns, set ways of doing things, things that Dean could pick up on without much effort. This time was different: there were no signs, no patterns, it was as if Sam just disappeared, making his trace impossible to find, even for Dean.
Sam was running from something, and it terrified Dean that he had no clue what his younger brother was currently running from, and that he wasn't right there with him.
Dean knew it had been a mistake to separate; he thought it was the best thing for them. He should have known better. His entire life he had spent keeping Sam by his side. Letting him go to Stanford was the only time he had let Sam go. Even then he had always been there, watching, keeping an eye out for his younger brother.
This was different. They had always been stronger together, their weak moments coming in times when they were separated; when Sam had died and the deal was made, when Dean had died and Sam had turned to Ruby. All of their undoing had come when they had been apart.
Dean had just been so disappointed with his brother. Not wanting to deal with the emotional tears in their relationship. When Sam had offered the separation he had jumped all over it. But now, driving down the smooth country road, Dean could feel his blood pressure rising as he thought of his brother. The last conversation they had was Sam's admission to the Devil visiting him in his dreams, and still Dean had pushed him away.
His heart pounded in his chest, flashes of the future he had been shown invading his memories. He pulled the Impala to the side of the road, his chest heavy, his eyes dry… there was nothing left to come out.
His grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles white with the pressure, his teeth biting hard into his bottom lip trying to keep it together.
Six months was too long. "FUCK!" he screamed, his hands releasing the steering wheel, striking it hard, every hit releasing pent in frustration. He could feel the bruising begin but he didn't care, he just wanted to find his brother, and he had no idea where to start.
His chest moved fast, his breaths deep, trying to calm himself down. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel once again, his grip loose. He closed his eyes, his mind running through the different avenues he may have missed. The different names they used as covers, the people they would go to for help. Dean had gone through every hunting avenue he could think of, none of them giving him any clue as to where his brother was.
"When Sam wants to stay off the grid, he stays off the grid," Bobby had reminded Dean on numerous occasions, and Dean knew that. Hell, Dean had taught Sam how to stay off the grid, but this wasn't just off the grid, because Dean should be able to find him if that were the case. This was Sam running for his life and not wanting, even Dean, to know about it.
Not that Dean had been providing Sam with the utmost support lately, admitting to him that he didn't trust him had been a huge blow in their relationship. The words had just slipped out before Dean could stop them.
It had become a common occurrence for him, not filtering what he was really thinking towards his brother. They had always grown up in a tough love household, but it wasn't something Dean had ever done with Sam. Their father was usually the one dishing out the tough love, leaving Dean to comfort Sam.
But now, it came as quickly as second nature, the comments, the looks, the distance, all things that he knew was hitting Sam where it hurt. All of Dean's 'tough love' building, growing, wearing Sam down, before finally pushing his younger brother away.
Leaving Dean to search aimlessly for a brother who didn't want to be found, and Dean couldn't blame him.
The sounds of passing cars brought Dean out of his self deprecating territory, counting the space between each passing car.
'1…2…3…4…5.' Another car passed by. There was nothing Dean could do to change the past
'1…2…3…4." A red convertible. If he could just find Sam, he could change things.
'1…2…3." A black BMW. He just needed some sort of clue, something he could follow.
Dean had long since turned his cell phone to vibrate, not wanting to talk to anyone about any hunts, or demon omens that were popping up, because he didn't care. He just wanted his brother back.
The loud vibrating noise from the passenger seat brought him away from his counting, something he had always secretly done: counting steps, counting cars, signs, anything he could find to count he did.
The cell phone moved around the seat, Bobby's name flashing on the caller ID. Dean didn't feel like talking to anyone, letting it go, happy once the voicemail clicked on. He went back to counting as another car passed.
'1…2…' The cell phone bounced around the seat once again, 'Bobby' flashing.
Sighing, he reached out for the black cell phone. It was a new cell; he had lost his other phone sometime in between being transferred from Heaven's waiting room, to the small church, to the airplane.
"Go," his only greeting. He didn't have time to discuss his feelings, if there was no valuable information on Sam he didn't want to talk.
"Dean, I think I have something."
The discussion couldn't be held over the phone, Bobby hadn't divulged more than that. He didn't need to explain to Dean what he had information about.
As he approached Bobby's yard he tried not to get his hope's up over the possible information.
Stopping in front of the porch, the engine was left running. The talk was going to be quick, that much he knew. Bobby was already waiting on the porch.
"You look like shit boy." Bobby muttered, looking over the older brother, moving his chair back and forth in the same spot.
No other words were needed to encourage the older hunter to give the information.
"I've heard some rumors, a group of hunters holed up in an abandoned house in Detroit. It's causing quite the stir. Your brother is a hot topic for some people."
Dean frowned, "What do you mean?" he asked, taking a step towards Bobby who continued to move his chair back and forth.
"People are split on what should be done with Sam, kill 'im, or change 'im completely and use him for the war." Bobby stopped moving, looking up to Dean whose eyes were wide.
"Where is he?" He didn't need Bobby to explain, he could read between the lines. His brother was in the house with the hunters trying to turn him. Dean's blood boiled at the thought of some arrogant pricks forcing his brother to do something he didn't want.
"58 River Lane in Detroit. Boy, from what I've heard they've been there for a little over a week. So we better get going."
Dean paused, "We?"
"You idjit. You think I'm gonna let you go there on your own? I may be in a wheel chair but the last time I checked you didn't need your legs to fire a gun."
Dean nodded, there was no time to argue. As far as he was concerned he was walking into a massacre, and he was bringing Bobby with him. But his only thought was Sam.
They left late afternoon. It didn't matter how fast Dean was going, the trip seemed to be lasting a lifetime. 'Hold on Sam, hold on Sam' was his inner chant, the only thing keeping him together.
Dean knew that any area in Detroit that had an abandoned house would be an interesting area, and this didn't disappoint.
The night was still young, people were just emerging from their hiding holes. Prostitutes lined the street corners, homeless men and women wandered around aimlessly. Their feet barely lifting as they shuffled along the dark road, most muttering under their breaths as they walked, talking to their own inner demons trapped in their heads.
Most times Dean would have parked the Impala in a different neighborhood and found a different way to get to their destination. But there was no time for that, and the car was really useless to him if he didn't have his brother as his front passenger.
The area didn't phase Bobby. "This is River Lane," he announced, looking to the right. Dean saw the rusty street sign, hidden in the darkness, the full moon providing the only faded light. The street lamps looked to have been out for years, no one wanting to come and replace the bulbs.
Glancing at the houses along the street, Dean took note of the lights scattered through the neighborhood. Some houses looked to be housing families, while others looked to be housing street rats looking for a place to squat for the night. Dean reached for his flashlight, shining it on the house numbers, stopping the car at number 54. Two doors down stood the house that could possibly hold his brother, his family.
58 stood in darkness, no sign that anyone was in the house. "Are you sure this is the right one?" Dean asked, looking to Bobby.
"It's the house I've been told… let's check it out." Bobby swung open his door, carefully moving each of his legs so they were outside the front seat. Dean reached for the folded wheelchair in the back seat, pulling it out he walked around to Bobby's door. Unfolding the chair, he placed it in front of the older hunter.
Walking back to his trunk, Dean gathered up the supplies he would need. Anything that would do damage was good enough for him: knives, guns, rocksalt, anything he could use.
The streets were abnormally quiet. People walked the ridges of the street but none dared to come any closer to the quiet abandoned house baring the number 58, their subconscious alarms going off that something just wasn't right.
Dean wasted no time, his only plan was to walk through that front door and kill anything that stopped him from getting to his brother. That was if Sam was even in there.
"No plan?" Bobby asked quietly.
"Not unless you have one?" Dean replied continuing to walk towards the house.
"Nope, front door guns blazing sounds like the Winchester way of doing things. Should probably wait and see if Sam's in there first before we go killing a whole bunch of innocent homeless people." Bobby suggested, and Dean just nodded. He had no intentions on wasting his time killing a house full of street rats.
An eerie silence fell over the hunters as they approached the front door; thankfully there were no steps to lift Bobby up on to.
The house sat in silence. No voices could be heard, no whispers of anticipation, just silence. The windows were boarded up, the glass having long been knocked out. Dean knocked on the door, surprised to find it opened easily, not a characteristic of a hunter who bolted every door and window of a place.
"Something's not right," Bobby muttered, following Dean into the dark house. Stopping just inside of the door, Dean stood on one side, Bobby the other, to get them out of the fatal funnel that the door way presented.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, goosebumps flaring instantly, "Something is very wrong." Dean raised his flashlight, waiting a second, trying to listen for any sort of noise, but the silence was deafening. He clicked on his light.
The walls were painted red with the blood from the nameless bodies scattered over the floor. The old house absorbing the screams of terror and torture that had fallen within its decrepit walls just a few short hours ago. Bodies lay scattered, arms and legs detached from the torsos' that had no heads.
"I think this is our house," Dean muttered, stepping forward, kicking random body parts out of Bobby's way so he could move freely.
"Boy, if the angel I'm thinking of cleared this house out, we need a better plan than guns blazing." Bobby wheeled forward, gun never wavering as they continued to search the rooms.
Dean stopped looking at the older hunter, "Ya, I think I have a plan."
Sam's chest hurt, struggling to breathe as the devil backed away, cell phone disappearing in thin air.
"I'm waiting, Sam." Lucifer smiled, his skin flaking and falling away from the Host's face. Sam watched it fall to the ground.
"Don't worry about that Sammy, this guy wasn't meant for me, you on the other hand. You will never flake or rot."
Sam just stared on, looking at the Host body, the man that once inhabited the rotting skin, replaced and stripped from his body.
"Sam… an answer." The Devil stepped closer to him, irritation clear in his voice.
"I, I'm not" Sam began, his words cut short, the air forced from his lungs as his ribs twisted and cracked.
He tried to curl in on himself, his broken body trying to stop the pain. He couldn't find his voice to scream.
"I'm not wasting anymore time, Sam." The red pupils of the Devil shone in the dim light. "I need that 'yes', and I finally have you on your own, already broken from your own kind torturing you. I can Save you, take all of the pain away."
Sam took in a deep breath as his chest relaxed. Slumped over, he concentrated on breathing as Lucifer crouched before him.
"Nobody cares about you, Sam. They all want you to rot in the ground, but before they send you there they want you to suffer, to drink the demon blood you crave. Your own brother wants you to suffer, why else would he tell other hunters how to find you. Why else would he partake in beating you?"
Sam stopped, his heart caught in his throat, looking up hazel eyes meeting the deep red, "What?"
Lucifer just smirked, quirking his head to the side, "You don't remember?" He asked, a small frown on his peeling face. "Let me refresh you." His hand came to rest on Sam's forehead.
The world tilted and turned, tossing Sam back into his thoughts and memories.
The crack of the whip caused him to flinch, the sharp pain of it cutting through his skin fresh in his mind. He cried out in pain.
"Please, please stop," he begged, his hands chained above his head, his toes barely touching the ground. Listening to the whip snap back, he waited for it to come forward once again.
"It's all your fault Sam." The familiar voice was cold and hard. His brother walked into his view. "You ruined my life… You took my soul."
Sam tensed at the words, "Dean?"
"Don't," Dean took a step back, hand up. "I spent my life protecting you, I gave my life, my soul, bringing you back. Only to have you turn against me."
The whip hit hard. Sam held back the scream that dared to tear past his lips.
"I have no brother," Dean whispered, the whip cutting through the air, landing hard against Sam's skin. Sam screamed.
Sam shook his head hard. "No, no, no, no"
"Yes Sam, I wouldn't lie to you." A Hand reached toward Sam's bleeding face.
"Fuck you!" Sam screamed, tearing his head from the Devil's grasp, his chest heaving, finding it hard to breathe. Breaths coming in short hard gasps, he pulled hard at his chains, the links cutting into this wrists and ankles.
Screaming, he could feel as his shoulder dislocated, but he continued to pull and struggle. He couldn't believe it. "There's no way, there's no way" was his only chant as he continued to struggle.
Lucifer stood, "Sam, your brother does NOT care about you. Is he here now? You saw it yourself, he was here, he hurt you…. It's over Sam, you have no one."
"Think again." Dean stood, Bobby beside him, the colt in one hand, the other grasped firmly to the back of Bobby's chair. His eyes never strayed from the Devil who held his gaze firm.
"Dean… I don't have time for this." Lucifer smirked his hand coming up.
"Don't," Sam screamed, his eyes on his brother, "You do anything to him and it's over." Blood pooled in his mouth, spilling to the floor and dripping off his chin. His eyes locked on Dean, wanting nothing more than to have his brother just glance over to him.
The Devil's hand lowered, slowly. "It's so nice of you to join us, Dean." Irritation evident in the Devils smooth voice, his head quirking to the side as the smirk formed on his dry lips.
"Oh, I'm sure it is." Dean scowled, his finger clenching against the trigger of the colt.
Lucifer's head tilted to the side. "You already know that won't work." He smiled.
"No, no, it won't, but this will." Dean smiled back, raising his bloody hand in the air before slamming it hard into the back of Bobby's wheelchair. The room engulfed in white, the devil screaming as he was thrown from the room, and out of the house.
The Devil was an Angel, a fallen Angel, but still an Angel. Dean wasn't sure if it was going to work, as he drew the symbol on the back of Bobby's wheel chair. But when the light cleared from the room, he didn't waste anytime rushing to Sam.
His brother was shackled to the wall like an animal, his blood everywhere. Dean tried to keep his mind focused, wanting nothing more than to stop and fix his brother. But he had to get them out of the house, out of the area, not knowing how long Lucifer would be gone.
"Dean?" His brother's head rolled from side to side, his eyes unfocused and confused.
"Ya Sammy, it's me, I'm trying to get you out of here, but it's going to hurt." Dean winced looking at the various open wounds, broken bones and dislocated joints.
"It's okay," Sam mumbled.
"No, Sam, it's not okay," Dean mumbled back as he worked quickly, his heart sinking as he tried to ignore the cries of pain that came from his brother as they moved out of the house. Thankfully there were no stairs to conquer. Bobby tried to clear the path for the boys to walk through, moving the body parts to rest against the wall.
Dean tried to survey the major injuries as they walked, the cuts and the obvious marks from a sharp whip superficial. But those tended to be more painful than the injuries that required stitching.
Sam's body hitched in pain as they moved to get in the car. "I'm sorry Sammy, just lay back, you're safe now little brother." Dean moved quickly, it had been 15 minutes since he had cast Lucifer from the small room, and he wasn't sure how quickly he could come back.
The engine hummed as Dean pressed on the gas pedal hard. He didn't lift his foot once, praying a transient didn't walk in front of his car because he wasn't stopping. Glancing in the rearview mirror his brother shook slightly as he lay in the back seat. His face contorting in pain with every bump and divot Dean hit in the road.
Bobby tried to turn himself so he could reach Sam but it was useless.
It didn't matter, Dean would be stopping on the side of the road to do a little triage before he continued on, he just had to make it out of the city and onto a backcountry road.
Sam was beyond pale. Dean wasn't sure if it was because of the stark contrast of the blood on his face, but he could see the prominent dark circles under his brother's eyes, even in the dim light.
The stocky frame his brother had built while Dean was in hell had diminished greatly. The muscle mass was gone from lack of nutrients, his face shallow and sunken in. This wasn't the same Sam he had seen six months ago.
Dean could feel his anger rising as he thought of the past six months, thought of how they had separated, how Sam had come to him after his fist encounter with Lucifer and Dean had pushed him away. He gripped the steering wheel hard, holding in the anger that threatened to spill over; he wanted to scream, to shout, to hit everything and anything that was close to him.
Instead his voice cracked. "Goddammit Sammy." It was nothing more than a whisper, garnering only the smallest fraction of Bobby's attention.
His emotions were overwhelming, the thought of the devil catching up to them adding to Dean's anxiety. He had spent months searching for his brother, and now that he had him, he had no intentions of losing him again.
A quiet groan from the back seat garnered his attention. Looking back quickly he could see his brother trying to shift around. "Easy Sam, try not to move too much," Dean called out, his brother settling instantly.
"We need to pull over," Bobby muttered, looking to Dean who nodded in acknowledgement.
They needed to pull over desperately. Dean just didn't know where it was safe to do that. He had tricked the devil once, he doubted he would ever be able to do that again.
AN: I hope it was okay! One more chapter to go… let me know what you think, reviews help the fingers type faster.