Chapter 28: Broken Heart & No Soul

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August 2015

"We need to go," and "Sam's got a lead on Amara." Those were the only words Dean had exchanged with you since Becky and Rod's living room mere minutes ago. He'd spoken more to them to get you both out of there, then he had to you.

He didn't need to though, because his actions spoke louder than words.

When you handed him the photo and whispered, "Tell me that's not Chuck," he brought his palm up to cup your cheek and wiped away the tear that threatened to fall.

His eyes were full of pity when his hand squeezed yours tight. And when he pulled you up off the sofa and escorted you out the front door, his arm was wrapped firm around your waist, all the way back to Baby.

Now you sat in what should've been the comfort of her leather-lined interior as Dean sped through the streets much faster than the local limit. But with Becky's rose-coloured shoe box between you, and a pit in your stomach that kept growing deeper with every second that passed, it was impossible to be anything but disappointed.

Disappointed in yourself and disappointed that you were none the wiser on the Charles/Chuck front.

What did that photograph tell you besides they didn't share a face? Were Chuck and Charles just different vessels of God, or was Chuck just a profit and nothing more?

Becky hadn't given you any information to help you decide. Nor had Sera, Chuck's landlord, or Chelsea back in Sydney, and you realised the past three days had been a waste of time.

How else could you describe it?

You'd traipsed Dean across the country for what? To stare at a face that wasn't Charles' when he could've been helping Sam with whatever he'd found.

That phone call had to be important, or so you thought, but that all changed when Dean slowed down and pulled the car over to a stop. He put her in park, cut the engine and stepped out into the warm night air, still without a word.

Outside, there was nothing of importance. There was no servo. No motel. There wasn't even a diner, bar or any other place Dean liked to frequent.

All you saw was another Wilmington street with houses and trees lining it, and Dean as he walked around the hood of the car and came over to the passenger door, opening it on you with a creak.

"Dean?" you asked, but he said nothing, and you couldn't read him.

The light from Baby's dash and those from the nearby houses and street lamps weren't enough to illuminate his face, and you were left wondering if he wanted you to join him or not.

You weren't waiting long. As he had done earlier in Becky's living room, he leaned over, took your hand and pulled you into his waiting body. Only this time, both arms wrapped tight around your waist and his warm breath tickled your ear.

"I didn't wanna answer you in front of them," he murmured. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Sorry... You were the one that was supposed to be sorry, not him. He was here because you'd brought him into this wild goose chase when he should've been concentrating on Amara or helping Sam with the case in Fall River. Not here in Wilmington, searching for someone who may as well have been a ghost.

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