Chapter Text
A loud blast of static jolts Dean awake and his knee hits the back of the seat as he sits up quickly, blinking frantically and twisting around to look for danger.
“...Sorry about that, folks, just a minor glitch. Hopefully we’re coming in clearly now!” the radio says, and Dean relaxes, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. He must have left the car in accessory mode when he laid down to sleep. Hopefully the battery isn’t dead.
There’s a dull throb of pain behind his eyes, indicating that he didn’t get enough rest in the backseat. He ignores it as he reaches into the front seat for the half-empty bottle of water, before opening the door and stepping out onto the shoulder of the highway.
He stretches and twists to get the kinks out of his back, then splashes a little of the water on his face and dries it off on the hem of his shirt, before finishing it off and tossing the empty bottle through the open door and back onto the front seat.
He shuts the door, and walks a few steps away to take a piss, looking out at the prairie. The field is harvested, and the autumn sky is a soft grey. The early morning air is cool, dry.
He zips up and walks around to the driver’s side, taking off his leather jacket and tossing it in before getting behind the wheel. An old Aerosmith song is playing on the radio. He turns it down and grabs his phone, flipping it open and tapping through the contact list until he finds his brother.
He traces his thumb over the green call button for a moment, but then he flips the phone closed and tosses it onto the seat. He’s a few hours away from California. He can call Sam when he’s closer. Maybe he’ll hear from Dad by then.
He starts the car and puts it in gear, checking his rear view mirror, before whipping around because he thinks he saw… he thought he saw someone in the backseat. But there’s nothing there. He runs his hand down his face. He needs some proper sleep.
He shakes his head and checks one more time (nothing) before pulling out onto the highway, headed west. Unconsciously, his hand slides to the chain around his neck, to the amulet hanging there.
***
“You’ll find what you’re looking for at ArchSpan! Check out our website at ArchSpan Dot Com—”
Dean shuts the radio off in irritation. All music should mean all music, not ads. He looks at the apartment. Sam’s apartment.
It took him three days to get the last thousand miles or so here, and he still hasn’t called his brother. But he hasn’t heard from… he hasn’t heard from his Dad and he’s running out of options. And he knows it’s partly an excuse to see his little brother, but it’s also that Sam sees things Dean doesn’t, and maybe he can pick up the trail. And maybe he’s just sick of being alone on the road. He clenches the amulet in his hand.
But he hasn’t called, and it’s dark. And he doesn’t want the door slammed in his face, so.
He just goes in.
He makes some noise on purpose, waking Sam up. He doesn’t mind a dramatic entrance, and he avoids having an uncomfortable conversation. Sam’s annoyed, sure, but in the end Dean gets what he wants, and Sammy kisses his girl goodbye and they hit the road.
***
They find a Woman in White. It takes a few days and there are a few bumps in the road, but they solve the case. They don’t find John, of course, but they do have coordinates where to go next.
“Dean. You don’t need me. You can do this alone,” Sam says as they pack up their things and head back to the car.
Dean doesn’t want to do this alone.
He slams the car door and turns up the radio. ”...Grace Church, find a light in the dark. Number Two, Bridge Street East. Follow the signs. He rolls his eyes and turns it back down.
“I have a meeting on Monday. This can’t be a thing. I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean puts the car in drive and heads back towards Palo Alto in silence.
They stop for gas and a bite to eat at some sketchy diner on the way. Dean still hasn’t said anything. He wants to be grateful his brother came along at all, but he is increasingly desperate to find a way to convince him to stay. He leaves Sam at their booth and goes to the bathroom. He catches his eye in the mirror as he washes his hands, and he’s momentarily startled at the sight. He kind of feels like he hasn’t slept since he picked up Sam two days ago, and he was expecting to look more tired, somehow. Like he’d expected crows feet to spring up in a couple days. He laughs darkly to himself and leaves the bathroom.
He slides in next to Sam, who is staring out the window and not looking at Dean. He’s about to say something when the waitress shows up. He smiles up at her, practiced charm in place, but she stares at her notebook and doesn’t meet his eye as she takes their order. Sam orders a salad. Dean orders a burger with onion rings. She nods and walks off. Dean shrugs.
Sam is still sulking, so Dean stares out the window as well, idly listening to the quiet clatter of the diner and watching a crow peck at a bit of trash in the parking lot. It’s grey out, but it doesn’t look like it is going to rain.
“I thought California is supposed to be sunny all the time,” he says to Sam.
Sam shrugs, but his mouth twitches into a slightly deeper frown.
Their food arrives, and they eat quietly for a few minutes. The onion rings are dry and uninspiring. He should have gotten fries.
Eventually, he lets out a sigh.
“It’s good to have you back, Sam. I’m not gonna lie. I’ll take you back to your girl, Jessie—”
“Jess.”
“Jess, yeah. I’ll bring you back. But Sam. I don’t want to go months without calling. I want... I didn’t even know you had a girl. And here you are shacked up. Give me a call once in a while. Let me know what’s going on.”
Sam’s jaw twitches, but he nods shortly.
“Good,” Dean says, and takes a bite of his burger.
***
Dream On is on the radio. Sam turns it down, annoyed. “This must have been in a movie, or something. It’s making a comeback.”
Dean nods, distracted. He’s still thinking about whatever he thought he saw in the rear view mirror right before Sam’s apartment went up in flames.
He tries to focus on the case instead. “Put in a tape,” he tells Sam, and Sam, who pretends sometimes that he doesn’t understand Dean as well as he actually does, puts Metallica in, even though Dean knows Sam doesn’t like Metallica at all.
They don’t talk about it, though. Just like they don’t talk about Jessica’s death or who they’re looking for. They talk about whatever case they’re working on. Haunted lake last week, demon this week. Whatever’s next week. Who knows. They’ll look for something tomorrow.
The motel clerk barely looks at them as they check in, which is fine with Dean. He heads back to the Impala to grab his bag, but there’s someone sitting behind Sam. He frowns and tilts his head to see, but it must have been a trick of the light, because there’s nobody there. Maybe it was a reflection, although the grey sky isn’t casting any shadows.
Once inside, Dean takes a shower while Sam orders a pizza. The pizza arrives while it’s Sam’s turn in the shower, and Dean pays, tossing the box on the desk and grabbing a slice, reaching for the remote and flicking through the channels.
He hears a loud fwap and sits up, startled, but it’s just Sam, shaking out his towel. Dean sits back and takes another bite of pizza.
“Too many vegetables, Sammy,” he says.
“You’re gonna get scurvy, Dean,” his brother replies.
Dean can’t be bothered to respond.
***
The room is dark when Dean wakes up, looking around in confusion. The TV is still on, but it’s static. Weird. He didn’t think stations went off air anymore. He feels around for the remote, but he can’t find it. He gives up and gets up with a groan, making his way to the TV and groping around for the off switch.
.... you hear me? … cashout…
Dean pulls back, surprised. It sounded for a moment like there was a voice coming from the static on the TV. He finds a button and presses it.
“...your house with a reverse mortgage. Get the cash out of your house today!”
The TV must have been picking up an adjacent channel. Another button down, and that shuts it off.
He goes back to bed.
***
The next case turns out to be a haunted mirror, then a shifter. They go from one job to the next. Sometimes, Dean remembers for a moment that they’re looking for someone and starts to say something to Sam, but Sam finds something else, so they move on. A hook man, some bugs. A haunted truck. There’s a cursed painting or something. Sam burns the painting, and the ghost appears and then vanishes in a puff of smoke.
“Did that seem easy to you?” Dean asks Sam.
“I’m not gonna complain about an easy case once in a while, Dean.”
“Yeah. But none of them have been that hard lately. All a bunch of milk runs. I feel like there’s something missing.” He absently strokes his amulet.
“I guess. But it’s been a pretty steady stream of jobs the last little while, maybe we just need a break. Nothing in the papers has really jumped out at me lately. Maybe we should go down and see Bobby.”
Bobby. Fuck yeah. “That is a brilliant idea, Sammy. This is why you’re the smart one, and I’m just the good looking one.”
“Shut up, Jerk!”
“Never, Bitch.”
***
“Long time, no see, boys,” Bobby says. His brows pinch together slightly. “How’s your daddy?”
Dean shrugs and gets a beer. “Haven’t seen him in a while. We were looking…” he trails off. That doesn’t seem right. He shakes his head and pops the cap, taking a big swig. It tastes like pisswater, but he doesn’t say anything to Bobby. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that. “Any interesting cases?”
“Nah, been pretty quiet. I got a Mustang out in the yard, though, if you wanna take a look.”
Dean perks up immediately and gets to his feet. “Definitely. You coming, Sammy?”
Sam grimaces, but gets up anyway. He’s not into cars at all, but he’s also too polite to say anything.
The three of them head out to the shop and go in through the man door. Bobby flicks on the light. The car is rusty, but the paint that’s there is a deep blue that kind of makes Dean’s heart skip a beat. He opens the door. The seats are tan leather. “Does she run?” Dean asks Bobby.
“Yeah, but there’s no battery right now.”
Dean reaches down to pop the hood, then goes around the front to look inside. He spends a few minutes poking at things, asking Bobby about the work he’s done. He ignores Sam, who is growing increasingly bored. Sam sighs and slides into the passenger seat of the Mustang, opening and closing things and pushing random buttons.
Suddenly, the radio comes on.
“What the fuck?” Dean says. Sam is staring at it like it grew tentacles.
“105.2 FM The Bridge,” blasts out of the speakers. A moment later, Steven Tyler starts singing.
Sam reaches out, tentatively and turns off the radio. The shop goes quiet.
After a moment, Bobby says, “I haven’t heard that song in years.”
Dean stares at him. “It’s been playing nonstop on like, every station.”
Bobby doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. By mutual agreement, they go back inside the house. Bobby goes over to the old radio on the bookshelf and fiddles with the dial. “98.9, pop station,” he says, and switches the radio on.
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on…
The last notes echo into the room, and the three men look at each other without saying anything as the song ends and an ad starts playing. “North Crossing Dental is now accepting new patients! Crowns, dentures, and bridges! Find us at 44 North Crossing Drive, Sioux Falls!” The ad ends, and the DJ comes back. “That was P!nk, and it really had me moving in my seat. Up next we have—”
The DJ is cut off with a burst of static, and then replaced with a male voice. “...keep getting cut off, I’m not even sure if you can hear me. Dean. Go to the bridge, it’s thinner there—”
The voice cuts out, and is replaced with some bubblegum pop music.
“What bridge?” Dean finally asks.
“Dean, we don’t even know what this is, let alone what bridge the radio wants us to go to. Or why.”
“But what if it’s the clue we need to find whatever we’ve been looking for all this time?”
“What are we even looking for?”
Dean opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He’s not even sure. He just knows that there’s something missing.
“I think you should go,” Bobby says.
“Go where?” Sam asks, even more frustrated.
“I’m sure it will come to you idjits, just get in the damn car.”
That sounds right to Dean. He can’t explain it, it just does. He turns on his heel without another word and walks quickly to the car. Sam catches up quickly. “What are we even doing, Dean?”
“We have to go to the bridge,” Dean says, sliding into the driver’s seat. Sam throws up his hands but gets in beside him.
“I don’t like this, Dean.”
“I know, but it’s what I have to do.”
***
The sky is grey, but the roads are clear and dry as Dean drives, barely paying attention to the trees that slope steeply up from the side of the road. Sam turns on the radio, but every station is playing Dream On, so he soon shuts it off and they drive in silence.
It’s nearly three hours later when they come around a curve and see it. A plain, nondescript bridge with grey steel railings over a deep ravine. Dean stops the car in the centre of the bridge. He shuts it off and they get out.
“We’ve gone over like, six bridges, Dean. How do you know it’s this one?”
“I just do,” Dean says. He walks over to the railing and looks down. It’s steep, and the bottom of the ravine has a small, rocky creek filled with jagged boulders and rushing water.
Sam steps up beside him, and Dean glances over at him, shocked suddenly at how he looks. Sam’s bangs flop in the light breeze, and he’s wearing a t-shirt with a dog on it. He’d expected Sam to be older. He closes his eyes, then opens them again, looking at Sam.
He has grey in his shoulder length hair, and lines around his eyes. “Heya, Sammy,” Dean says.
“We… we’re in Heaven,” Sam says. It isn’t a question.
“I don’t know how we forgot! Bobby sent us here. Bobby… I talked to him. He was by the Roadhouse. But I decided to go for a drive. And then here you were. Bobby said. Bobby said Jack and Cas fixed Heaven….”
“Cas…”
“Cas! We forgot Cas! I was looking for Cas! How did I forget! Let’s go!”
Dean turns away from the railing and goes back to the Impala. He shares a smile with his brother over the roof of the car. He can’t wait to see Cas again!
He slides behind the wheel. The radio is at full blast.
I know it's everybody's sin.
You got to lose to know how to win.
Dean turns it down, and slams the door shut.
A loud blast of static jolts Dean awake and his knee hits the back of the seat as he sits up quickly, blinking frantically and twisting around to look for danger.