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The day that Dean got back from the store trying to get dinner for Sammy and found him gone was the worst day of Dean’s childhood. He had been trying to do something good, picking up something other than the Chef Boyardee they’d been eating for days, but for all that sentiment, he had messed up big time. Sammy was gone and Dean was freaking out. He started checking around, making sure he wasn’t just at the little arcade or in the office talking to the motel staff. No Sammy, not anywhere on the motel lot. He went down the street to the little convenience store they’d been to the night before and checked every aisle, both bathrooms, even asked if his little brother were somewhere in the back room. No Sammy, not anywhere. Dean walked down the street, shouting Sammy’s name, walked into the trees along the road a ways, even stopped and knocked on some doors, but no Sammy, not anywhere. When Dean’s legs were so tired, he thought he was just going to collapse in the breakdown lane, he started walking back to his empty room and he knew nobody was there for him. Nobody, not anywhere.
Back in the motel room, Dean checked under the beds, in the cabinets, outside under the windowsill, in the closet, in the shower, even in the fridge. He ripped the perfectly made beds apart, in hopes that somehow Sammy were thin as paper and just hiding there. Finally, he just collapsed in a heap, leaning against the bed, and he cried. He punched the floors and kicked at the other bed and he practically screamed out his frustration, his anger, and his loss. He lost Sammy. Maybe a stranger came by and kidnapped the brother he was supposed to protect. Maybe a monster got in and Dean just can’t see what it may have been. Maybe Sammy just left. Maybe Sammy walked out that door like his dad did every time they got dropped off at a motel. Maybe Sammy was already dead like his mother. Really, as he cried and screamed, it didn’t matter because once again someone left him. Nobody here. Nobody anywhere.
4:00AM blinked on the clock when Dean’s eyes flew open to the sound of someone entering the motel room. He jumped out of bed in excitement, picturing little Sammy and his scruffy hair walking through that door. But, when he saw the size of the shadow closing the door, his eyes went wide and his blood ran cold. Dad was back and Sammy was still gone. Dad would be so angry that Dean couldn’t even keep an eye on his brother, couldn’t keep him safe. The fear filling Dean made him flinch and step back, which left him off-balance and falling onto the bed. At first, things seemed okay; John walked in and looked over the room and nothing was a mess. Then, he walked into the actual bedroom and saw the empty bed beside Dean. John had taken Dean hunting once, about a year ago, and the utter terror he had felt as he looked at the body of a shifter on the floor was about equal to what he felt now. In the darkness, he couldn’t see his father, couldn’t see the rage in his eyes, and he didn’t need to. The shadow’s movement became quicker and longer, as an arm reached out to grab Dean’s collar.
“WHERE IS SAMMY?!”
It was enough to jerk Dean off the bed and up onto tiptoes trying to not dangle in his father’s grip. When he flinched and turned his face away, John shook him, practically strangling Dean in the shirt.
“YOU ANSWER WHEN I ASK YOU!”
His mouth opened and nothing but a strangled, dry croak came out. It was almost a whimper, but he couldn’t even make enough sound for that.
“Yes sir… S-sammy is… He’s not here.”
The words sounded pathetic in his own ears and he knew John wasn’t done with him yet. He couldn’t look away from the dark shadows flickering over John’s features. It was like he was frozen in terror, watching the accident.
“What. Do. You. Mean. Not. Here?”
John had gone quiet and calm, like he was when he hunted. Dean could only imagine the way John was looking at him right now. The monster that let his wife die, the monster that couldn’t save his baby boy. Somewhere a voice in Dean was dying, the little voice that said Dean wasn’t to blame for his mom or for Sammy missing now; in it’s place, a voice grew every day. Watch out for Sammy. Protect Sammy. Keep your brother safe. You’re worthless without Sam. You don’t matter if you don’t watch over Sammy. You’re nobody and nobody wants you. Nobody wants you. Nobody, not anywhere. He tried to pull back, despite his shirt in John’s grip, tried to turn away, tried to curl in and protect himself. The movement just seemed to draw more of John’s predatory attention.
“DEAN! I asked you what you mean by Sammy isn’t here!”
“I went to get dinner and he was just… gone… No sign of struggle, no monster I know… I just… I lost him…”
He felt tears stinging at his eyes, bitterness, anger, and failure trying to show itself. Men don’t cry. Men bury it. Men ignore it. Men don’t even feel it. So Dean buried that pain. He hid how scared and worried he was. He hid how much he hurt. And then he acted like he knew he should. He acted like his dad, like a hunter. He put up that wall and went for the things he knew. Even if he were worthless and couldn’t find Sammy, he knew his dad could. His dad was a hero.
“It was two days ago and I went to the store. When I got back, there was no sign of him here. He hadn’t been seen by the staff. He hadn’t been in the arcade. He hadn’t gone to the convenience store nearby. I asked at the houses along the street and tried to look for signs of him along the road and off in the trees a bit. I probably went about 3 miles in both directions from the motel. There were no signs of anyone entering the room, no odd markings, nothing out of place.”
As he spoke, Dean straightened up and steeled himself. His dad was a hero and had trained him to be a hero too. He could remember the important information. He could at least help. And when Dean began to stop cowering, his father let him go. Through the darkness, it was easy to tell the look John gave. John was appraising his eldest, deciding if this boy were worth trusting. He was deciding if Dean had done well enough. The barest nod assured Dean that his father wasn’t so angry anymore and finally that last knot in his chest eased.
“Okay. Get back to sleep, we start searching for Sammy in the morning.”
John just walked away and left Dean standing at the edge of his bed. Dean hadn’t done well, he hadn’t done enough, he hadn’t made his dad proud. He had still lost Sammy. He had lost the only thing that mattered.
Whispers sounded from the main part of the motel room and Dean knew his father was calling and reporting a missing child. Beneath the covers, Dean could only worry about what he had done wrong. Should he have taken Sam to the store. Should he have called the police sooner. Should he have walked farther. Should he have gotten more information.
Blackness covered him and he dreamt of shadows. Shadows are never yours. Shadows always leave. Shadows hide the things that will hurt you. Dean tossed and turned, fleeing from those dark shapes, until the shapes began to solidify and the nightmares got worse. The first was his mother. Her shadow was like pitch, nothing but burnt remains. He reached out and tried to hug her, but she only looked down and shook her head in disgust, before she turned to leave. Second was his father, over and over again. Dean ran to him every time, trying to beg forgiveness, to follow him, to be better, but this shadow pushed him away and knocked him down before leaving too. The final shadow of John looked at him and Dean could hear the whisper, “Everybody leaves you Dean. Your mother. Me. Now, Sammy.” The third shadow was Sammy. It seemed to come to him, searching for him, but as soon as the Sam shadow came near, it flinched away in disappointment. “Nobody wants you Dean. Nobody stays for you. Nobody, not anywhere.”
The hard feel of floor and scratchy motel rug woke Dean from his nightmare and the last of the morning shadows made him flinch. He heard his father in the next room packing to leave. On hands and knees, he reached for his bed to stand and he strangled a whimper before it could escape. Today, he would leave with his father to find Sammy, even if next time dad would leave him behind. In the back of his mind, he could always hear it.
Nobody wants you, Dean. Nobody is waiting for you, Dean. Nobody, not anywhere.