Providence ZS

Sam stays gone long into the morning and the rest of the day, the rest of the week. And it turns out that the only time Dean feels anything other than the phantom pain of a missing brother is when he's making a kill.....Two and a half weeks, thirteen assorted slayed demons, several hundred miles, and six motel rooms later, they send Meg to him.





"I'm fine, see? This is me, being fine."



When he's pretending he's all right, he's hustling, hunting, burning remains. When he's not, he's picking up anyone who gives him a once over, waking up in someone else's bed; getting drunk by himself and vomiting on the floor when he can't quite make it to the bathroom.



On the table, a journal, a laptop recharging, a gun, a hotplate. On the bedside table, a lamp, a cell phone, a half-consumed cup of tea, a carefully smoothed scrap of paper with gibberish written on it. On the bed closest to the door, a sleeping figure. On the opposing bed, sitting there watching--



There's only one thing missing, but the passenger seat isn't getting less empty anytime soon.



he'd found crumpled in the pocket of his father's jacket. I vanquish you, it means. You cannot stand against me. See my blood; I will die for them, so help me.



The words are intent, the blood is proof, and all he has to do is find the strength to hold on long enough.



doesn't like what he sees



"Listen to me," he says, right up against Sam's ear. "It's not your fault."



Dean tries to say it like he remembers their mother saying it, when Dad was gone for days on end and Dean blamed himself because of something stupid and hurtful he'd said, i hate you i hate you i hate you.



"Do you hear me?" he says. "It's not your fault."







Isn't that something I ought to be sorry about?"



Sam is still quick, which is good, because Dean never pulls his punches with him. Still, his knuckles hurt like a son of a bitch, but the relief on Sam's face as he lies sprawled on the grass more than makes up for the pain.





Yeah. I do. I think you wonder about all the what-ifs all the time. And if you haven't yet, maybe it won't happen today. Or tomorrow. But you will."



Dean raises an eyebrow, daring Sam to lie. And Sam closes his mouth, clears his throat, and says, "Maybe I have."