Far Away Part Five

[grianchloch]

Dean had two weeks of being safe, living on ground more sacred than any churchyard would ever be, surrounded by the love that had shaped the family he now belonged to for more generations than he wanted to start counting.

But then Caleb called. It would be a tough hunt, one he didn’t want to do alone, and Dean was the best man for the job.

“I’ve gotta go.” Dean took some clothes out of the drawers they’d been happily lying in and stuffed them into his bag.

“I know.” Sam stood in the doorway, watching him pack.

“And you haven’t had a vision, have you?”

“I could fake one if that would make you stay?” Sam’s smile was weak.

Dean pulled the zipper closed on the bag and walked over to where Sam was standing. He reached up to tangle his fingers in the lush dark hair. He pulled him down to kiss him as Sam wrapped his arms around Dean.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise, Sammy.”

“I could come with you.”

“No! Just ... no. I don’t want you near this stuff, you know that.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been around “this stuff” all my life, Dean. You know that.”

“Not like this, Sammy, not this hunt.”

He knew Sam could take care of himself in a fight, hell, he’d trained him and even John had taught the kid a thing or two, but Sammy hadn’t lived the life.

Sam pulled back so he could look Dean in the eyes.

“Swear you’ll come back to me, Dean.” He put his palm over Dean’s heart and Dean mirrored his action.

“I swear, Sammy. Nothing can keep me away, okay. I swear I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Good, because if you’re not, I swear I’ll come looking for you.”


The vision hit almost as soon as the Impala left the driveway.

Dark and sickening, Sam felt like he was drowning in it and as he fought his way out of it, yellow eyes turned and looked directly into his soul. Sam screamed and convulsed on the floor, throwing up his breakfast.

Soon as he could move, he called Bobby.

“Jesus, Sam, you sound awful. Is Dean still there?”

“No. He left an hour ago to meet Caleb.”

“You going to be okay, son? Want me to call your aunt?”

“No, Bobby, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to worry her.”

“Another Azazel vision?”

“Yeah.” Sam trembled and pulled his knees towards his chest and whispered. “He saw me, Bobby, he looked right at me.”

“What? Sam, has that ever happened before?”

“No. I see them, Dean and the things that want to kill him, but they don’t see me. I’m scared this time, Bobby. It’s searching for Dean and it’s got infinite patience. And it saw me.”

“What did you say?”

“That is saw me.”

“No, before that. It’s got infinite patience, is that what you said?”

“Yeah, that’s how it feels.” Sam coughed raggedly.

“Sam, I’m calling Beth. I don’t want you on your own.”

“No, please, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Bobby agreed with his fingers crossed behind his back. “Go and sleep it off and promise to call me when you wake up.”

“I promise.”


Beth loved the way the hotel was slowly changing into a peaceful retreat centre. The main rooms downstairs were now bright and airy and the guest rooms in no way resembled their original run down state. Her own room looked out over the sea, and she couldn’t wait for Sam to visit once he was settled in college and the retreat was up and running. She wanted him to see what a peaceful place it was, not in the same way that their house in Oregon was, but peaceful in it’s own way. And she wanted him to understand that he’d always be welcome in what would soon be her new home.

The wind ruffled her hair and she turned back towards the retreat just as her cell rang.

“Beth? It’s Bobby.”

“Hey Bobby, everything okay?”

“Sam’s been having visions of the yellow eyed demon.”

Beth felt the color drain from her face.

“How long?”

“Since the first trip you made out there.”

“Why now? Why are you telling me this now?”

“He called me half an hour ago. This time he said something … he said something I’d heard before. He said that it had infinite patience, which is what Cate said the night she came to see me.”

“No, Bobby …” Beth sobbed out.

“And he said it had looked right at him.”

Beth ran towards the retreat and up the stairs to her room. She grabbed her purse and quickly stuffed a few essentials in a bag. On her way down to the rental car she was using, she found Jane.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go home for a few days. Family emergency.”

“Sure, take as much time as you need.” Jane looked at her friend with concern and reached out and took Beth’s hand. “Is Sammy okay?”

“Yes, he’s … he’ll be fine, but I need to see him, to make sure.”

“Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”

“No, but thank you.” Beth managed a weak smile. “I’m okay, really. I’ve got to go.”

She hugged she friend tight and left hurriedly.


The thing that had placed the call hid inside the driver of a dark blue truck, yellow eyes glittering. He didn’t have long to wait before Beth's silver rental tore past him, and he pulled onto the road to follow, just as the rain began to pour.

In South Dakota, Bobby finally got up the courage to phone Beth, frowning when his attempt went straight to voice mail. After he found out about the accident, he never quite forgave himself for not calling earlier.


They laid her to rest on a warm, sunny day in the family plot at the side of the house. Dean hadn’t even known that was what the piece of land was for. There were no headstones or markers but it was edged with rosemary bushes. Rosemary for remembrance, Sam told him as he planted a new one in the freshly dug earth.

Half the town came for the wake. Friends from her college days arrived plus Jane and the friends she’d made out in Maine. Zach drove in from Twin Rocks with half a dozen others, and the hunters stood off to one side, solemn to start with, in their dark suits.

Dean slipped his hand into Sam’s and Sam clung to it like a lifeline. Dean was okay with that.

Slowly, people began to share their stories, tongues loosened by a little alcohol. Stories of her wilder days in college, stories from those she’d helped through the years with her herbal medicine and her willingness to listen to those that needed to talk. Dean joined in, telling the tale of how she’d been there for him when he was small, and had become like a mother to him in many ways. Then after he wiped away his tears, he’d told the story of teaching Sam to fight and the trouble they’d gotten into and people laughed along with him.

Sam took his turn amongst Ellen and Jane and people he’d never even heard of, until people were laughing and crying in equal measure and the sun was almost set. Throughout the day, people had stopped by the grave and left flowers and small gifts behind, and Sam stood looking down at then for a long time before he said a final goodnight and walked back towards the house.

Dean was waiting for him on the porch steps. He got up as Sam approached and Sam walked straight into his arms.

“Bed time, Sasquatch. It’s been a long day.”

Sam nodded and Dean led him off to bed.


Life, Dean knew, would move on by despite the pain and loss they felt. He missed Beth so much his heart ached and knew it was worse for Sam, but he wasn’t talking. He’d retreated into himself and decided not to go to college, a decision Dean didn’t agree with. He tried to persuade him, but Sam stubbornly refused to listen, no matter how dirty Dean played. Telling him it was what Beth would have wanted got him punched in the face, so Dean gave up temporarily.

Sam had insisted that Dean go back to hunting almost straight away, in total contrast to how he’d felt in the weeks leading up to Beth’s death. Dean didn’t like to leave him, but Sam was picking fights over almost everything, and Dean thought that maybe he did need a little alone time.

So Dean headed first to Bobby’s. He was still connected by laptops and cell phones and Sam’s ability to know when Dean was about to walk into danger. Sam was quiet at first, not returning Dean’s texts or mails, but he would always call after a vision had struck.

Dean answered the phone with a sleep roughened “Hey Sam”.

“The werewolf you’re hunting? It has a mate. There’s two of them, Dean, and you can’t take them both on alone. You need backup. I’ve already called Bobby.”

“What are you? My social secretary?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“You could call in between dire warnings, you know. Shoot the breeze, tell me how work is going.”

Still silence.

“Whatever, bitch. I miss you, okay?” Dean grumbled.

“Jerk.”

Dean heard the smile behind the word and grinned.

“Night, Sammy. And thanks.”

“Night, Dean.”

Sam rang off, and Dean went to sleep feeling happier than he had for a while.

After that, Sam slowly began to reply to the random and obscure texts and messages Dean left him.


Dean checked in with John.

“Any news on the demon?”

“Nothing conclusive, Ash is still working on it.”

“These weird ass visions of Sam’s are getting worse, it has to mean something.”

“You got that right.” John sounded distracted, as if he were working on something and talking to Dean at the same time. “It’s can’t be coincidence that Cate and Beth both died the same way in freak flash floods.”

“What?”

“Cate. She died after going to Bobby’s place to warn us about the demon, and Beth died the same day Sam’s last one struck.”

“I didn’t know.” Dean paled and rang off and turned the Impala towards Oregon.


When Sam got home from work, the Impala was parked up outside the house, but the place was still in darkness. Sam wondered if Dean had lost his keys but he could have always picked the lock. He pushed open the door.

“Dean?”

“Sammy.” Dean’s answer from the kitchen was slurred and when Sam flicked on the light he winced and shaded his eyes.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Sam noticed the bottle and glass on the table. “And getting drunk.”

“Not drunk, Sammy, perfectly okay. Why did you never tell me how your mom died?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Bullshit!” Dean got to his feet, picked up the shot glass and threw it against the door. “You didn’t tell me cause it was my fault. She came to warn them I was in danger, just like you do, and she died in a flood just like Beth! It’s more than coincidence, Sammy, it’s a curse, my curse. I’m cursed!!”

“You’re not cursed, Dean.”

“I’m cursed to kill your family off one by one but it’s not gonna happen to you. Not to you.”
Dean swayed on his feet.

“It’s the demon that’s killing people, not you.”

“It’s because of me. My curse.”

“Dean ...”

“No, Sammy, it stops now. I’m ending it. No-one else dies for me.”

Sam pulled him back down to the chair and sat beside him.

“No-one else needs to die because of the demon. I think I’ve found a way to kill it, incapacitate it, I’m not quite sure yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember when I met you in Seattle, and I’d seen the vamps take you down?”

Dean nodded.

“Well, I didn’t paint it out. I tapped into what was left behind and used it. With the vamps, it made me horny as hell, and gave me a power trip, but with Azazel, it’s different.”

Dean stared at him, thinking back to Seattle. His eyes widened and he pushed Sam away forcibly, getting to his feet again.

“You fucked me while you were high on that darkness you paint out?” He looked horrified.

“No! Dean, no, it wasn’t like that.”

“And you’re messing with the fucking demon? Jesus Christ, Sammy, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“If I can help kill it ...”

“You’ll get yourself killed, messing with this stuff.” Dean yelled.

“You don’t know that!!” Sam bellowed and they faced each other down.

“Is this why you didn’t want me around after Beth died?” Dean asked, his voice now low and deadly, suddenly sounding very sober.

Sam looked away, and Dean nodded. Without another word, he walked out of the house. Sam ran after him.

“Dean, wait!”

“You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets Sam.” Dean pulled open the door of the Impala and got in. “There’s a hoodoo priestess who can break the connection, the think that makes you have visions of me. I didn’t want it to come to this, but damned if I’m gonna let you die, and messing with demons will do that to you.” He slammed the door in Sam’s face and took his amulet off as Sam watched and threw it on the back seat.

“No! Dean! What are you doing?”

“Saving you, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was muffled through the car window. Sam tried to open the back door, but it was locked and Dean hit the gas and pulled away.

“Dean!!!”


“Tell him he’s not cursed!!” Sam yelled down the phone.

“Well hello to you too, Sam.” Bobby held the phone away from his ear.

“Sorry, sorry, hi, but you have to talk to him. John told him stuff and he got wasted and he left. He left me. God, I hate Winchesters!!”

“What did John tell him?”

“How my mom died. I didn’t know he didn’t know and now he blames himself for her death and Beth’s and doesn’t want me to die for him too. Stubborn bastard wouldn’t listen to reason. He was rambling on about severing the link between us”

“Where did he go?”

“I’ve got no clue. He was muttering about hoodoo, but that’s all I got.”

“Sit tight, Sam, I’ll check in with John.”

“He took his amulet off as he was driving away, Bobby.”


“You told Dean about Sam’s Mom.”

There was an awkward sigh.

“I thought he already knew.”

“Well he didn’t. Sam called. Dean’s headed south, muttering about hoodoo and breaking the bond between them and he’s not wearing his amulet.”

“Bobby, I …”

“Pray we find him before anything happens, or so help me the next time I see you, I’ll kill you myself.”


“Dean, pick up the fucking phone.” Sam paced, backwards and forwards.

For the third day running, he’d been wracked by the same vision. Azazel was closing in on Dean and all Sam could tell the other hunters was that he was heading south.

He’d called Dean, left messages, texted, but there was no reply, no sign that Dean had got his warnings this time. John and Caleb were all heading south too, but without a more precise location, they were running blind. Bobby was on his way to Sam, concerned at the toll the visions were taking, and not wanting him to drive, and they were both going to join in the hunt for Dean. He could be anywhere from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and Sam knew that if he didn’t know what was coming, he wouldn’t survive.

Sam was certain Dean had pulled off his amulet to make the demon follow him, but he had no idea of the ferocity of the thing. If he thought he could face it in any situation and stand a chance of winning, he was mistaken. In Sam’s last two visions, Dean had been literally torn apart.

Sam had meditated, trying to at least find out the direction Den was driving in, he’d tried divining, but unlike Beth, he’d never excelled at it and came up with squat. He knew that he’d probably have had more luck with both if he hadn’t been so tense, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to be too late.

“Pick up, pick up.” But all he got was Dean’s voicemail message, and Sam growled in frustration.

The familiar prickle began at the base of Sam’s skull, and he whimpered.

“No, not now, not again.”

He shuddered, pain lancing through his head. He tasted the fear that pounded through Dean’s veins. His vision fragmented, and he saw the inside of a room with symbols painted on the walls and ceiling. Dean was kneeling in the centre of a circle, similar to a devil’s trap, and his chest was bare.

Sam’s skin felt too tight, almost itchy and a strong urge to grab Dean and run, far and fast and hard gripped him, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t reach Dean through the vision. His body trembled and his knees gave out. He landed on the floor, pitching forward onto all fours as a wicked blade flashed down towards Dean’s chest.

Sam screamed as blood filled his sight and he clutched his own chest as pain ripped through it, falling down onto his side.

And then it was gone. He should have been relieved, that the crushing pain had left as soon as it had arrived, but it had taken something with it.

“Dean ...”

Sam had never realised before how he was bound to Dean. The way he could always feel if Dean was threatened? Under that was a sense of Dean, like a second heartbeat, pulsing in time with his own, strong and steady and every present only now ... there was nothing. Nothing but a dull ache in Sam’s heart where Dean had lived for as long as he could remember. And now he was gone.

“No.” Sam whispered to the empty room.


A handful of days later, on the edge of Opelousas, Louisiana, a man sat in a diner staring out of the window, pondering on what life meant when there were no memories to tell you who you were. He wasn’t a clean slate. He could remember how to breathe, how to eat, how to speak and form words, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Where am I?” Didn’t bring him any answers he knew what to do with. There were maps on the diner wall, one with all the states on, and one of the county he was in, but it didn’t mean anything if he couldn’t remember where he’d been before. Before his memories vanished, leaving him alone and confused.

He wasn’t a clean slate, but he felt blank. Flat and one-dimensional and he knew what that meant, but it didn’t help either.

He touched the healing wound on his head. Must have hit it pretty hard, but he couldn’t remember that either. All he knew was that he needed to go north and given that was the only thing he knew for certain; he decided to follow that instinct.

The waitress brought his order and put it down in front of him with a steaming cup of black coffee.

“You said you were looking for a ride north?”

The man nodded.

“Frank there is headed up to Shreveport if that’s any good to you? He’s a regular through here.”

She turned and pointed Frank out. Frank nodded at him and went back to his breakfast.

“Thanks.”

The waitress smiled and left the man to his bacon and hash browns. He ate fast, in case Frank was in a hurry to leave, and was finishing his coffee when the trucker walked over.

“Frank.” The trucker introduced himself bluntly and stuck out his hand. The man took it and shook it. “Molly said you’re heading north. There’s a rest stop outside of Shreveport. I can drop you there. Should be able to find someone to take you further.”

“Thanks. I’m Ed.” Ed was the name of a guy who’d won first prize in a local pie-eating contest the man had read about in the paper over breakfast. Seemed as good a name as any.

“Good to meet you, Ed.”

Ed left the money for his breakfast, and a small tip for Molly and began his journey north.


It took four weeks for Ed to reach his destination. After every ride, he’d find a diner and sit for a while until he knew which direction he needed to go in next. It was more than instinct, he knew that now. It was as if his body knew exactly where he needed to be, even if his mind was still a blank. So he followed the bone deep pull wherever it led him. In Montana, he picked up some work in a bar for two weeks. He was glad of the extra money in his pocket and slept on a bunk in the bar owner’s bunkhouse. He bought more clothes in a Goodwill store and with the luxury of a shower in the bunkhouse every morning, he began to feel human again.

When he reached Seattle, he realised he’d gone too far, and caught a ride going south. As soon as they crossed the state line into Oregon, he knew he was getting close. The final leg was the hardest. He hitched a ride to the edge of a small town, and was torn about what to do. If he was right, and he belonged around there, then someone would know him in the town, surely. But he was reluctant to show himself because if he didn’t know who he was, he didn’t know what kind of welcome he’d get, so he turned around and trusted that whatever was guiding him wouldn’t fail him now.

He walked for an hour, taking a right turn about halfway, and then finally turned left onto a driveway which led up to a two-story house. It was partly surrounded by trees with a massive one dominating the view past the house down towards the mountains. There was no car or truck parked outside and it was mid afternoon, so Ed was prepared to have to wait in case whoever lived here wasn’t home yet, but he took a deep breath and knocked on the door anyway. When there was no answer, he knocked again but there was still no reply.

He shifted the small pack on his shoulder and went to peer in one of the windows. Dustsheets covered the furniture and there was a handful of boxes neatly stacked by an inner door. His heart sank. He couldn’t believe he’d come all this way for nothing. It was the right place, he was certain, but if no-one lived here now, how was being here supposed to help him.

He sat down on the porch steps, exhaustion overtaking him and replacing his anticipation of finding answers here. He looked around. The planted areas at the sides of the house looked neglected. Not quite overgrown, but on their way there. He got up and walked along the side of the house to a gate, which lead to the yard at the back. It was locked, but he could see enough through a broken slat in the gate to know the back was in the same state as the front. Whoever had lived here, they hadn’t been gone long.

Ed decided to wait in case someone came by, and sat patiently on the steps for a long while, occasionally taking long welcome drinks from the water bottle in his pack until it was all gone. He eyed the building at the side of the house. Big garage or small barn, he wasn’t sure, but maybe there’d be somewhere he could grab a little sleep while he waited.

The big doors were locked, but a small side door wasn’t so he let himself in, feeling a little guilty to be poking around someone’s place like that, but then he reminded himself that in some way, he belonged here too. His eyes got used to the gloom, and he let out a long whistle.

As well as more boxes, several pieces of furniture and a porch swing, there was a big black car, well polished and gleaming. It was such a contrast to the rest of the place with its neglected dusty feel. Ed ran his hand over the roof of the car and wondered why it was the only thing that looked like it had been cared for. Tired, he sat down on the porch swing and moved the cushions to one end. He took his jacket off and lay down, covering himself with it, and wrapped his arms around his pack. It held the only things he knew for certain were his, and he needed to keep it safe.


In town, Sam and Ellen were sitting in their second office, the Cocoajava Cafe across from the gallery.

"You've got a lunch with the literary society on Thursday and I've booked you on the 11am flight from Portland to New York on Saturday. I wish you'd let me come with you." Sam sighed, brushing the dark bangs back from his face

Ellen smiled at him and shook her head.

"Sam honey, you need to take time to move back into the house. Your Aunt Beth would have wanted you to be happy there."

Sam sighed.

"I have moved back in."

Ellen put her hand on her assistant's arm and shook her head.

"No, your stuff is still in the boxes you packed it in to move to California, you sleep on the couch and I know haven’t made a meal in that kitchen since …” She patted his arm. “It's time, Sam. I know you’ve lost so much, but living like this isn’t what she would have wanted for you. If it’s too painful to stay, it’s maybe time to think of moving on. If not, then make it a home again." She didn’t ask if he’d heard from Dean, she knew he would have told her if he had, and she didn’t want to bring up another painful subject.

He nodded his head and looked down at his empty plate.

"You're right. I know. And I can’t see myself living anywhere else."

Ellen caught the attention of the server behind the counter with a smile and a nod of her head, ordering a second round of coffee and Sam's customary second muffin, then glanced back at him, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I am, and don't think I won't be straight over when I get back to check on you."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Ellen gently smacked him on the head, and grinned up at Dolores who was carrying a tray laden with their order. Sam helped her put the things down on the table and load the tray up with empty cups and plates from earlier.

"Thanks, sweetie." The waitress smiled and winked at Sam and left them alone again.

"I'm serious. You need to settle, and you're not going to do that unless you at least unpack. And don't think you can get away with going into the office behind my back." Ellen nagged. "I've left strict instructions that you're not allowed in the building."

"Ellen!" Sam glared at her, exasperated, and imagined Cathy, all five foot of her, trying to keep him out of the office by force.

"It's a week, Sam, the world won't spin off its axis because you take a break."

"At least let me get you a Blackberry? That way I'll know you have everything you need with you and you can keep in touch?" He looked at her with pleading eyes, but she wasn't swayed.

"There's nothing wrong with my diary!" She waved the purple leather-bound book in his face, and he knew what was coming next, he'd heard it so many times before. "I've been using paper and an No. 2 pencil to write things down for longer than you've been on the planet, and I'm not going to change now."

"Okay, okay!" Sam put his hands up in mock surrender and smiled at her. "Can we at least go through some paperwork before you go?”

Ellen sipped on her coffee and nodded. Sam opened his folder which had lain forgotten on the table and they sat going over the organization of the next exhibition at the gallery. An hour later, they emerged from the cafe, and Ellen gave Sam a tight hug and threatened, once again, to check up on him when she got back.

Sam picked up pizza and pie and a six pack on the way home, not caring that it was Dean’s favorites he ordered, not his own. Despite finding the Impala in a motel parking lot on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, and getting confirmation from the clerk that he had checked in, the trail for Dean was cold. Sam hadn’t had a vision since and his chest still ached at the lack of his lover.

When he got home, he stuck the beer in the fridge and left the pizza and the pie on the kitchen table. Ellen was right. The only thing he ever made in there was coffee, everything else was take out of TV dinners, and that wasn’t how he’d been raised. It was time to make it his own; make it his home. He walked slowly round the house, noting what needed to be done in each room. The boxes he had begun to pack for college were still stacked in the dining room and he’d covered the furniture with dustsheets since he never went in there. Finally, he ended up on the porch.

The boards were clean, but the porch was bare. The sturdy swing that had sat there all his life was stored away in the barn, as was the hammock that had hung to the left. He glanced over at the barn. The boxes Beth had packed to take with her to Maine were in there too, and he knew he’d have to go through those eventually too, but he could leave that for a while.

Sam walked towards the barn, a nightly ritual to complete before he tucked into the pizza. He opened the door quietly and slipped inside, crooning to the car before his eyes fully adjusted to the light.

“Hey baby.”

There was a snuffling noise from close by, and Sam was immediately on his guard and totally unprepared for the figure sleeping on the porch swing next to the Impala.

“Dean.” Sam gasped in shock.

John’s old jacket covered him like a blanket and Sam noticed that his face looked thinner and there was a red mark on his left temple.

Sam took another step and his foot connected with a metal candlestick lying on the dirt floor of the barn. It hit the frame of the porch swing with a dull thud, and Dean’s eyes flew open.

Sam was struck by the fear in his green eyes, and Dean scrambled away from him, grabbing his pack and jacket and looking past Sam, obviously looking for a quick exit. His chest heaved and Sam held his hands up, trying to reassure him.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I’m sorry, there was no-one here when I got here, and I needed somewhere to sleep." Dean scrutinized the stranger’s face, not seeing anything familiar. “Do I … do you know me?”

“Know you? Dean, it’s me, Sam. Don’t you recognize me?” Sam wanted to fling his arms around Dean, hold him, yell at him for being an ass and never let go of him again, but the way he was looking at him, Sam knew he had to take it slow.

Dean shook his head.

“I don’t remember anything further back than four weeks ago. All I knew was that I had to get here, only I didn’t know why.”

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. You’ve stayed here a lot, it’s almost like your home and then five weeks ago, you disappeared.”

Sam’s heart was racing, and he felt light headed with relief.

“Are you hungry? I’m starving and there’s pizza and pie and beer in the kitchen. We can eat and try and figure out what happened.”

“Okay.” Dean was still wary, but he followed Sam and the promise of food into the house and through to the kitchen.

“I didn’t think anyone lived here anymore. The plants are growing wild and I looked through the window and everything is in boxes.”

“Something else for us to talk about over pizza.”

Sam had a feeling it was going to be a long night.


It was after 2am when Sam had suggested they go to bed, and his heart had ached at not being able to curl up with Dean, but he was still too wary. Once Dean was settled in the spare room for the night, Sam had a phone call to make. He’d already tried John’s cell several times, and he was hoping Bobby would still be awake.

“Bobby? Dean’s alive.”

“What??”

“He was asleep in the garage when I got home today. He doesn’t know me, Bobby. His memories are gone. He can remember waking up on a park bench somewhere in Louisiana two weeks ago with fifty dollars in his pocket. No wallet or cell. He says he followed his instincts, which told him to go north west, and he just kept on following that feeling until he got here. Took him a while because he picked up a job in a bar for a couple of weeks in Montana to make some money.”

“God, Sam, that’s good news. There must be a way to get his memories back.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea yet.”

“Why not?”

“He’s safer without them.”

“Sam, you’re making no sense.”

“John said that after Dean left here the last time, the demonic activity he had Ash following turned this way and then headed south. But the day I had my last vision, it stopped dead, and dissipated again, like it lost the focus that had been driving it.” Sam paused. “He took his amulet off when he left last time. I thought he was looking for some stupid macho showdown with the thing.”

Bobby was silent on the other end of the line.

“He’s been out there on his own for over a month. If the demon could have found him, you know it would have killed him.” Sam paused. “I couldn’t feel him, still can’t. It’s like he isn’t there and the connection between us is gone. It’s hard to explain, but if I can’t feel him, then I don’t think the demon can either. I think he’s hidden while he can’t remember. It’ll give us some time to find out how to kill the damned thing.”

“That’s one hell of a theory, Sam.”

“I know, but we have to try.”

“He’ll be pissed, eventually.”

“I know, but I’ve got to take that risk. I’ve been calling John, but I can’t reach him. I’ll keep trying, but if you hear from him, ask him to stop by?”

“Okay Sam, take care.”

“Thanks Bobby.” Sam rang off.

Chapter Six