Chapter 147-Born Under A Bad Sign

6 1 0
                                    

January 28th - February 12th, 2007

Sam had been missing for a few days now. All Dean and I had been doing was making phone calls and driving around to different towns near where we had last seen him. He had left no clue as to where he had gone. One morning, we woke up, and he was missing, no note, and continuously let his phone go to voicemail.
We were getting extremely worried, so Dean pulled over under an overpass and called
Ellen again.


"Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?" (...) Dean groaned. "I swear, it's like looking for our dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here." (...) "no, we've called him a thousand times. There's nothing but voicemail. We don't know where he went or why." He said as he shook his head "Sam's just gone." Dean said.

Beep! Beep!

"Hang on." He said as he pulled his phone away and clicked over to the other line "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" (...) "hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you?" (...) "all right, don't move, we're on our way." Dean said as he hung up the phone.

[.......]
Once we reached the motel that Sam was waiting at, we quickly ran into the building and down the hallway to his room "Sam, it's us. Sam!" Dean yelled as he knocked on the door frantically but, there was no answer, so he tried the door, and it clicked open "Sam? Sam? Hey." Dean said as I followed him in "hey.." Sam said softly. He was sitting on the bed, staring at the floor with bruised knuckles and blood on his shirt "are you bleeding?" Dean said as he examined him "I tried to wash it off." Sam sighed.


We both realized how much blood there actually was on his shirt. It was from his chest to right above his waist. Dean brushed his hand over Sam's shirt "oh my god." Dean mumbled "I don't think it's my blood." Sam said "whose is it?" Dean asked "I don't know." Sam said "Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asked, concerned "Dean. I don't remember anything." Sam said as he looked up at him.

[.....]
Dean had left me with Sam while he went out to find information. We didn't want to leave Sam alone because we were worried that he'd go missing again, but we were also worried about taking him out without knowing what had happened. The whole time alone was awkward, he was really quiet, which I understood, but he just didn't seem like himself. So, I could not wait for Dean to come back. Finally, he did about an hour later, with a grocery bag.


"What'd you find out?" Sam asked anxiously "you checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora...of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan..." Dean sighed "Dean." Sam said "your room's been quiet.
Nobody's noticed anything unusual." Dean said as he shrugged his shoulders "you mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" Sam said "yeah. That's what I mean." Dean replied "then how the hell did I get here, Dean?
What happened to me?" Sam asked, frustrated.



"I don't know. But you're-you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with." Dean shrugged "oh, really? Cause, what if I hurt someone? Or worse?" Sam said "Sam-." Dean sighed "what if this is what Dad warned you about?" Sam asked him "hey, whoa...whoa, come on, man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like-like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?" Dean said "just the three of us, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and-." Sam said.


"West Texas?" I asked, looking at Dean concerned as he gave me a worried look and then turned back to Sam "that was-that was over a week ago." Dean said "that's it. Next thing I knew. I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month." Sam said "okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon, and he never saw you come back, so.." Dean said as he walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back and revealing bloody fingerprints on the window.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧Where stories live. Discover now