Chapter Text
In the middle of the 100 Mile Wilderness of Maine, darkness reigned. The stars spread out in the sky, lights uninterrupted by the pollution of cities, and under the moonlight, campers slept under the romantic wrap of a starlit night.
A bright light flashed through the sky and ripped away the peaceful night. Inside a tent, a woman sat up in alarm, her own calm repose with her boyfriend disturbed by the flash of light. She looked around wildly, panicked with the half-asleep vagueness of someone who awoke from a nightmare. She turned and shook her boyfriend.
“Will, get up!” she urged. “Something just happened!”
As quickly as the light had arrived, it faded. Will sat up groggily, and, without a light to see, he nearly laid back to sleep. A twig snapped, and he became tense and alert. Footsteps approached the tent, and the silhouette of a figure hung around the couple.
“Go. Go do something,” whispered the woman urgently.
“W-What are we supposed to—” Will trailed of when his girlfriend glared, and he grabbed a flashlight.
He stepped outside of the tent, and his girlfriend peeked out in fear. Will cleared his throat and spoke, his voice trembling, but he tried to mask the shake to be the “man” for his girlfriend. “Hello? Hello?”
The flashlight shone into the dark woods, but nothing appeared or moved. Will turned back towards his girlfriend. “It was a deer.” He shook his head. “I don't know. It was like—it was a deer or something—” Another twig snapped, and Will pivoted. “Oh!” he gasped.
Stained with blood and dirt and holding an axe, Dean Winchester glared at him. “Where am I?” he barked.
“What?” said Will, staring in shock and fear. Behind him, his girlfriend emerged and gasped.
Dean pulled out a gun and cocked it. It aimed directly for Will and his girlfriend.
“W—Hey, hey!” said Will, panicked. He held up his hands to appeal to Dean.
“Where’s the road?” demanded Dean.
Will pointed quickly. “Ten miles that way.”
Dean kept his gun pointed warily at the couple, picked up his backpack, and walked into the dark woods.
l
Four days later, after hitchhiking, scrounging for food, and walking for miles under the blistering sun, Dean arrived at a sprawling parcel of land. On a stone pillar, a simple sign read “Lafitte.” Dean picked up the shovel he’d stolen and started down towards the windmill. He past it, looked around, and finally spotted a grave.
“This better be you, you son of a bitch,” grumbled Dean.
He dug, wincing as his left arm ached. However, no matter the pain, Dean kept going until he hit the coffin, and, even then, he forced himself to break through to the bones underneath.
“Alright,” said Dean, taking a breath. He gritted his teeth. “Hold on, you bastard.” He rolled up his left sleeve, and a red glow pulsed within. “Hold on!” he took out a knife and cut down his left arm. “Anima corpori—” He held out his arm, and blood, glowing with the energy in his arm, dropped onto the bones “—fuerit corpus. Totem resurgent.” Dean swallowed when he finished the words, remembering (Y/N) when the spell was finished. He missed them.
A shadow loomed over him, and Dean’s mind snapped back to the present. He looked back and raised his brow at the man.
“Wow. That was fast,” said Dean.
“No thanks to you,” said the man with a rich southern drawl. “The hell took you so long?”
Dean held onto his still-bleeding arm. “You’re welcome.” The man cracked his neck, and Dean glanced at him. “Everything working?”
The man opened his mouth, and vampiric vangs descended. They retracted, and he snapped his jaw closed. “Good enough.” He looked at Dean. “So what now?”
“Like we talked about, I guess,” said Dean.
The vampire nodded. “Then this is goodbye.”
“Keep your nose clean, Benny,” said Dean. “You hear me?”
Benny held out his hand, and Dean shook it.
“We made it, brother. I can’t believe it.” Benny let out a laugh of disbelief and pulled Dean into a hug.
Dean clapped him on the back. “You and me both.” A whole year of being trapped. There was no more time to waste.
l
For the first time in over a year, Sam got out of the impala and headed into Rufus’s cabin. Dog hair still clung to his pants, and he swallowed and held the strap of his bag tighter. He opened the door of the only home he really had. Someone pushed him to the ground, and Sam flailed. Holy water poured over his face, soaking him instantly. He coughed.
“What the—I’m not a demon!” he shouted at whoever was attacking. He pushed back, and his eyes widened when he saw his brother. “Dean—” Dean poured Borax over him, and Sam grimaced. “Not a Leviathan. What—” Dean sliced him with a silver knife, and Sam gasped in pain.
“Or a shifter. Good,” said Dean. He let go of Sam and stood. He held out the bottles and knife. “My turn. Come on, let’s go.”
Sam stood and stared. “I don’t need to. I know it’s you.” His brother was back.
“Damn it, Sammy!” Dean poured holy water and Borax over himself. He held the silver knife out to Sam. “Come on!”
“No!” said Sam, taken aback. “Dean, can I just say hello?” He had thought his brother was dead.
Dean rolled up his sleeve and cut himself. “Alright.” He finally grinned. “Well…let’s do this.”
Sam stared at Dean, who was still covered in dirt. He let out a breath of surprise and shock and confusion and relief all in one. “I don’t know whether to give you a hug or take a shower.”
“Come here.” Dean laughed and held out his hands. Sam hugged him.
“Dude,” said Sam when they separated. “You’re…freakin’ alive.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, what the hell happened?”
“Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory,” said Dean wryly.
“You were in Purgatory? For the whole year?” said Sam in disbelief, eyes widening.
“Yeah, time flies when you’re running for your life,” said Dean darkly.
“Well, how’d you get out?” asked Sam.
“I guess whoever built that box didn’t want me in there any more than I did,” said Dean.
“What does that mean?” said Sam.
“I’m here, okay?” said Dean.
“What about Cas? Was he there?” asked Sam, trying to put all the pieces together.
Dean paused and turned his back. “Yeah, Cas didn’t make it.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Sam could see there was more.
“Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he…just let go.” Dean’s hands curled into fists, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
“So Cas is dead? You saw him die?” said Sam. He had grieved for so long, but the confirmation…the pain rushed back.
“I saw enough,” said Dean.
“So, then, what, you’re not sure?” asked Sam.
Dean faced Sam with an expression that Sam was taken aback by. He hadn’t seen such intense emotion on Dean’s face in a long time. “I said I saw enough, Sam.”
“Right.” Sam looked at his brother carefully. “Dean, I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” said Dean softly.
They both paused awkwardly, and then Dean and Sam spoke at the same moment.
“So did (Y/N) make it?/What’s (Y/N) up to?”
They stared at each other. Sam straightened, and Dean’s brow furrowed.
“What do you mean ‘did (Y/N) make it?’ ” asked Dean.
“I-I figured they were with you,” said Sam. “Because after Dick exploded, they were gone, so if you and Cas went to Purgatory, then they went, too.” His stomach began to twist with a horrible suspicion.
“They were gone—? No,” said Dean. “When Cas and I appeared in Purgatory, (Y/N) wasn’t there, so they had to still be on Earth. With you.” Dean stared at Sam.
“I thought—I thought they were with you,” said Sam.
Dean and Sam stared at one another, and a terrible realization settled on them. They had both assumed (Y/N) was with the other brother when they were gone in the aftermath of the Dick explosion. Instead, the truth was that for a year, (Y/N) had been missing, alone. And neither brother had any idea or done anything about it.
“Shit,” said Dean. “Where the hell are they?”
“I don’t—I don’t know,” said Sam, sitting down at the table and running a hand through his air. “I mean, where could they be?”
Dead. Neither Dean nor Sam entertained the idea. If Dean and Castiel had only been blown to Purgatory, they didn’t have to assume the worst. Not yet.
“No idea,” said Dean. “But if they’re out there, they couldn’t damn well call. Your numbers are out of service. Seriously, Sam, why’d you let that happen?” It meant Dean couldn’t contact Sam when he got back, and it meant that if (Y/N) was on Earth, they were also lost and alone. Dean’s stomach twisted at the idea of them, young and alone. They had been sixteen when he left. They were a kid.
Sam swallowed. “Probably because I ditched the phones.” He winced preemptively when Dean whirled on him.
“You what?” said Dean sharply. “Because…?”
“I guess, um…I guess something happened to me this year, too.” Sam shrugged, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty when he realized the situation he’d left Dean, Castiel, and (Y/N) in. “I don’t hunt anymore,” he admitted.
“You—You, Sam, you quit?” said Dean incredulously. He quit and didn’t look for Castiel, didn’t look for Dean, didn’t look for (Y/N).
“Yeah. Yeah, I—you were gone…Dean. (Y/N) was gone.” Sam swallowed. “Cas was gone, Bobby was dead. I mean, Crowley even shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown.” He lifted a hand helplessly and gestured around him.
“So you just turned tail on the family business,” bit out Dean. Turned tail on family.
“Nothing says ‘family’ quite like the whole family being dead,” said Sam, but it wasn’t much of a defense.
“I wasn’t dead,” snapped Dean. “In fact, I was knee-deep in God’s armpit killing monsters, which, I thought, is what we actually do.” He snapped. “And (Y/N) isn’t dead—” he refused to think of the idea “—and isn’t in Purgatory.”
“Dean, far as I knew, what we do is the thing that got every single member of my family killed,” said Sam, swallowing. “I had no one—no one. And for the first time in my life, I was completely alone. And, honestly, I-I didn’t exactly have a roadmap. So, yeah, I ditched the phones, I-I fixed up the Impala, and I just…drove.”
“After you looked for me and (Y/N),” said Dean. Sam went silent, and Dean narrowed his eyes. “Did you look for us, Sam?” Sam looked down and away. “Good. That’s good.” Bitterness flew from Dean’s tone. “Now, we—we…always told each other not to look for one other. That’s smart. Good for you. Of course, we always ignored that because of our deep, abiding love for each another, but not this time, right, Sammy?” He was betrayed, angry, and grieved at Sam’s actions. Sam hadn’t even looked for Dean and (Y/N), hadn’t searched for an explanation for their disappeared, and had just given up immediately.
“Look, I’m still the same guy, Dean,” said Sam, trying to see forgiveness and understanding in Dean’s gaze, but he found nothing.
“Well, bully for you,” scoffed Dean. “I’m not.” He started to walk away but paused. He looked over his shoulder. “And where (Y/N) is, wherever you abandoned them without looking, they’re not the same, either.” He knew it in his heart. He walked away, and a door slammed to punctuate his thoughts.
Sam stared at his hands. “Welcome back,” he said softly.
l
“You…want some dinner?” said Sam while Dean went through a box of telephones.
“Pass,” said Dean, examining each one without looking at Sam. “Unlike you, I’m going to look for our family.”
The blow hit Sam hard, and he swallowed, backing away from Dean. “Okay.” He fixed the rest of dinner in silence, and, even when he started to eat, Dean didn’t move.
Abruptly, Dean straightened and looked at Sam with a hard look. He clutched a phone in his hand, grip tightening.
“What?” said Sam.
“There are half a dozen calls from Kevin on this,” snapped Dean. He stood up. “He was our responsibility. And you couldn’t answer the damn phone.”
Sam swallowed. “Crowley—”
“But that’s not the worst part,” said Dean. “Do you know what is?”
Sam didn’t dare ask, and he was afraid to know. Dean held up the phone, open to voicemails. There was one from an unknown number, and Dean’s hand shook.
“(Y/N) called you.”
Sam stiffened, and his eyes widened.
“They called you. And you-you didn’t even check your goddamn phone!” shouted Dean. He threw the phone at Sam’s chest.
Sam caught it, and he hesitated. He had to listen to the message. He knew it. But he was terrified of what he would hear, the way it would mark his abandonment of family as a further blemish on him. He looked at the voicemail. It had been made a year ago. Sam pressed the play button.
“Hey, Sam. Hopefully you listen to this.” Sam flinched. “My phone broke. Looks like I can break phones on top of lights when I’m upset.” (Y/N) chuckled tiredly, and the sound broke Sam’s heart. Dean’s hands curled into fists. “So, um, I found a phone. I’m in Salem. I know, right?” The attempt at humor fell flat, and even (Y/N)’s voice betrayed their exhaustion. “I don’t really have money, but I figured something out. So I’ll be waiting when you come.” There was a pause. “I hope you get this. I tried to call Dean, but his phone—it’s not working. I hope you’re okay.” Another moment of silence, and then, a soft voice that betrayed all of the emotions going on in (Y/N)’s mind spoke, “I miss you guys.”
The message ended. Sam looked up at Dean, and Dean’s crossed arms tensed.
“They were scared,” said Dean. Even if (Y/N) hadn’t said it, they were sixteen—seventeen now, and Dean hated that they’d been alone for so long—and just killed a monster. They had been thrown halfway across the country. They had no one and nothing. (Y/N) was strong, but Dean knew the need to seem strong in the face of fear. Every time his dad had left Sam to him, Dean felt it. He knew (Y/N) was sacred. “They were alone,” said Dean. “They didn’t have money or a phone. And you didn’t even look at yours for a moment.”
“I had no idea—” Sam’s voice broke. He had no excuse. He hadn’t even looked for Dean and Castiel. “We need to find them.”
“Yeah. We do,” said Dean. “Because they’re family.” He grabbed the phone. “So I’m going to Salem.” He looked at Sam harshly. “You can do what you want.”
“I’m coming,” said Sam instantly, standing. “They’re my sibling, too.”
Dean didn’t respond to that as cruelly as he could. He didn’t need to. The guilt was already eating Sam alive. Dean just turned on his heel, grabbed the keys to the impala, and headed out. Sam looked down at the phone, swallowed, and followed. They had to find (Y/N).