Sam Winchester's hair covered his face. The light brown strands had fallen from behind his ears and were comfortably gathering in front of his eyes. There was no effort in him to lift his hand and push them away; every time he tried, they fell right back in to place. So instead, the male sat scouring the Internet for the millionth time this week for any case he could get his brother interested in. No matter how many cases he found, no matter where they were or why they should go on them, Dean had refused with a dismissive grunt or a curse and a new beer in his hand out of Bobby's fridge.
"Bobby, what about this one?" The 6 foot male twisted in his chair, his finger pressed against the glass of his computer screen so it changed colour from the pressure, but all the sixty-year-old did when he saw it was shrug.
"You get him on a case and I'll give you fifty bucks." Bobby rubbed at his beard with the back of his hand, shaking his head, "There ain't no force in hell that'll move that boy when he's moping." With a changed attitude, Sam closed his laptop with a small thud, exhaling and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course, they both loved Bobby dearly, but Sam never intended on practically living in his house for just-under a year. The unprecedented death of Stephanie Cale had impacted them more than the death of anyone else they encountered, even John in a way, but by no-means did that justify why they were still here. Sam was aware that no matter what happened in this world, they moved on. That was the rule, wasn't it? And yet, they hadn't. More significantly, Dean hadn't.
Both the Hunter's ears perked when they heard the other male's arrival. The particular groan of the Impala rolling slowly across the gravel on Bobby's drive, the sound echoing from the open window in the lounge. "Jesus." Bobby rolled his eyes, placing down his untouched coffee and pushing himself up from his seat. He walked past the younger Winchester, patting him on the shoulder, choosing to flee the scene.
"Hey Dean, I was thinking-"
"No, Sammy.' Dean walked through the front door almost mechanically. He didn't look up when his brother spoke and he didnt turn to shut the door, just blindly threw out his hand and waited for a thud. He shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall over the sofa, and slumping in to the couch letting his legs land Bobby's coffee table. He was glad Bobby wasn't in sight when he arrived, he'd be smacked hard round the head if he saw his boots resting against the wood.
"But-"
"I said no." Again, Sam had been denied. This time before he had even started what he was going to say. It was getting to the point where Sam couldn't keep considering Dean's feelings. It was becoming ridiculous and all three of them were aware of this fact; Dean had to get over this. She wasn't coming back. Cas hadn't returned since the night Stephanie died and not even Dean still clung to the hope he was saving her. He was an Angel, if he had, she'd be here by now. Whatever had happened, Cas obviously didn't have the decency to reappear once more- in Dean's eyes at least.
"Dean we need to stop this-"
"No, we don't." Sam sighed for the second time in a minute, now scowling at his brother. Eyebrows darkening his large eyes and his throat raspy with his aggravated grunt.
"You need-"
"No I don't." Sam had become so worn out by his brother in these past months that even the fury he felt bubbling somewhere in his chest was growing tiresome; he was running out of ways to salvage him.
"Dean, She's not coming back-" Snap. Dean stood from his seat and in a split second, he had his head away from the hand he was resting against, he was stood and growling at the male now hovering with his laptop.
"This isn't about her. Don't you dare bring her into this-" Sam placed his laptop to his side and threw his arms out. It was a pathetic attempt to square up to his brother but he didn't have the energy too, where would he even start?
"Yes it is. All of this is," He motioned around him and over Dean himself, "You can't get over it and it's killing you, Dean! It wasn't your fault. Stop blaming-" A smash buzzed through Sam's ears and he dropped his eyes to the broken glass dancing along the wood at his feet. Dean's beer bottle was left shattered and discarded by the older male.
"Shut up, Sam! Don't start bullshitting me! I know she's not coming back, this isn't about her." His jaw was setting the way it did when he became beyond return, when his fights turned dirty and gruesome and he retreated into himself for days and reasons Sam did not know. The way it set when his teeth grinded against each other and his fists clenched at his sides, a familiar rage burning through his veins when he wanted nothing more than to fuck shit up. It seemed to happen instantly whenever 'she' was even remotely mentioned.
"What's it about, then? Hmm?" Dean replied to his brother's words with a glare, heading out the room only to be stopped by a beeping that made both of the frustrated Winchesters roll their eyes. The older of the two Winchesters, after looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow - allowing his anger to fade a little with the distraction - followed the noise of the phone to his jacket. His fingers dug into the left pocket in his coat until he found the rectangle and wrapped his grip around it with a scowl. He was in no mood to drive to another state because of some irrelevant string of deaths. He was aware there were more Demons on the streets; more Vampires, more Werewolves, more Shapeshifters, more everything. But who cares? The gates of Hell had reopened, what's a Hunter to do? He didn't find his usual urge to kill those Demons, he didn't find any urge in death at all, apart from maybe his own. Dean was stuck in an insufferable state of mourning, he felt like he was drowning every minute he was without Stephanie but she wasn't coming back for him. Not for him, not for anyone.
"Hello?" Dean's gruff voice echoed down the line, a sigh leaving his mouth when there was no reply. He caught Sam's gaze and Sam read the thoughts in his eyes, 'why I haven't I just broken this thing yet?'
"Hey, Tiger." Silence followed again but on Dean's end as his body went rigid, his posture straightened and his eyebrows furrowed harshly against his face. There was a deep feeling he could only place as a mixture of paralysis and dread that spread through his body, every inch, until the air was crystalised in his lungs.
"Who is this?" It came out more of an instruction than a question, with his lips curled away from his teeth and his ears perked to the sound of breathless breathing down the other end of the phone. His stomach tripled in knots with darkening eyes. He'd kept eyes with his brother, and now all Sam could see was a fire sparking in them. Sam tried to mouth, 'who is it?" about three times before he realised his brother wasn't going to respond and he sent him an untimely, dramatic sigh.
Dean had no other reason but to think this entire phone call was a sick joke. An impossibly sick joke. He didn't know who would have done this to him, how being the more important question, but it was all just sick. It was sick and twisted; there were no two ways about it.
"Ah, I thought this'd happen." The phone, Dean could've sworn, began to crunch in the vice of his hand as he held it to his ear.
"Tell me who this is." A faint chuckle cut him off and his eyes watered, the voice only a haunting shudder down the line.
"I could really do with your help-"
"Who-" Dean barks over the voice, ignoring their heartless words. He had the intention of warning whoever was calling him, making them cower from his tone. Instead, his next words it came out rather timid in comparison to what he was capable of. "is this?"
"I'm on the outskirts of South Dakota-I'm not far-" Two more gasps rattled through the unfortunately familiar tone, "I just don't know where. There's a highway I mean-" A rotten laugh chimes down the line again but this time its raspy and scraping as it reaches Dean's ear, painfully rough. "-That's helpful." A sharp cough splutters down the line. "I've got myself a tad messed up." This was a cruel, horrible joke. Dean punched Bobby's wall.
"Tell me who this is or I swear to God-" The line goes flat. the sound of static rattles Dean's brain and he's left with the ghost of love ringing through his tortured mind. "Dammit." Dean hisses, throwing the phone down in one swift angry movement, probably shattering it, and runs a hand through his hair.
"Dean, who was that?" Sam sounded weary, almost ready to flinch in response to Dean's next unpredictable action.
"I-for God's sake-" Yet another growl ripped the oldest Winchester's burning throat and he clutched the jacket that was still resting in his left hand. "Get your coat, Sammy." And with that, Sam spun on the spot, a bit too enthusiastically which left him slightly disorientated. The fact they were basically going on a hunt, even if Sam was unaware of what they were actually doing or why, was more than good news to the youngest Winchester. Calling a goodbye to Bobby on their exit with the door thumping behind them, there was a mutter of, 'that son of a bitch' and both brothers left the building.
~~~
Author's note
Editing in progress once again, much like the first book in this series ('Rock salt and Silver') I'm not on hiatus! Just working out this storyline and also writing some other things! Updates are regular (weekly-ish?) Thinking about one-shots, suggestions would be amazing!