Chapter Text
It had been a week.
A week since Sam and Adam disappeared into that hole that was the highway to hell. Dean spent a week at Bobby’s, both of them had lost Sam.
Sammy.
His baby brother. Who he was supposed to protect. Who he had failed.
Dean had felt this the last time his brother had died. He couldn’t handle it and he made the deal.
Now he couldn’t even do that. How do you bring your brothers out of Hell? Out of that cage? Where Micheal and Lucifer was? With what both assholes were probably doing to his brothers?
Dean called, prayed, to Cas for a solution. Cas didn’t have one. Cas had told Dean that it took several angels to drag Dean out of Hell, and that it was difficult. Bringing both Sam and Adam out of the cage unharmed with Lucifer and Micheal both there?
Impossible.
Cas had awkwardly tried to give him some comfort, which Dean responded by just nodding and taking a gulp of his drink. Then Cas left, the telltale swishing of feathers sounding out in the empty living room.
Dean had spent the last week drinking and moping until Bobby had smacked him upside the head and snatched his drink, saying “What? Are you trying to die early by destroying your damn liver, you idjit? Drink some goddamn water!”
Dean had pointed out that Bobby wasn’t exactly not drinking either, which Bobby responded by rolling his eyes and muttering some choice words under his breath.
For Bobby’s sake, he drank more water. Though that didn’t stop him from secretly drinking whenever Bobby wasn’t around.
Dean slept much less now. Every time he closed his eyes (or even let himself think too much) , he saw Sammy smiling at him, his hazel eyes bright and full of happiness. Those damned puppy eyes of his that pierced Dean’s heart, full of the joy Dean had always tried to keep safe.
Whenever he drank himself to sleep, he dreamt of Sam.
Sometimes the dreams were good. Which made the gaping hole in his heart even deeper, knowing that his baby brother was gone. That Dean would never see him again.
Most of the time, though, Dean dreamt that Sam was angry.
“Why couldn’t you save me?” Those words rang in his head, Sam’s voice full of hurt and pain.
He’d wake up, trembling and sweaty, nearly dropping the bottle he was holding.
Dean tried to convince himself that his brother wouldn’t blame him. That Sam knew what sacrificing himself would entail. It was why he had made Dean promise to live a normal life.
To go to Lisa and Ben. But Dean couldn’t do that right now.
It didn’t stop the darker thoughts invading his mind. That Sam was suffering down there and Dean couldn’t do a single. Fucking. Thing. About it. He knew what Hell had to offer, of course, he had spent fourty years there. Now his brother…brothers were both down there.
With two archangels. Who were both giant bags of fucking dicks. He didn’t want to imagine what was happening to them currently, or he would vomit.
—
By the end of the week, Dean mostly managed to pull himself together, with help from Bobby.
On the outside, at least. He no longer looked like he was halfway to becoming a zombie. On the inside, his heart was still torn open, bleeding profusely. Dean thought that it would never go away, even if he was an old man. It hurt too much to heal.
Dean left Bobby’s house for the first time in a week, just needing to get out.
He walked out to where Baby was, breathing in the fresh air for a while. Then he saw it.
A goddamn owl. On top of his Baby, its claws were probably scratching the roof up. Dean was outraged.
“Hey! Get off my car!” Dean ran over and yelled, waving his arms to shoo it away from his car.
The bird, for some reason, gave him an attitude about it. It didn’t move at all, looking at him condescendingly, like Dean was the dirt on its shoe. Well, a hypothetical shoe.
Dean tried shooing it again, which didn’t work. He was considering taking out something to whack the bird off his car at this point. Hell, he might even shoot it. He was not in the mood at all.
The owl, apparently sensing Dean’s inner monologue, stuck out a leg and—oh. There was a letter attached to it.
Dean considered it for a moment. What if there was a curse planted on the letter? He could sense that it was somewhat supernatural , but in the end, decided to take the risk.
“What is this, this nineteenth century? Who the hell still uses owls?” Dean muttered to himself, carefully untying the letter from the owl. It had stayed completely still during that, which was a relief. He did not want to get clawed up by an angry owl.
He examined the letter curiously, it felt heavy, the paper old and yellowish. Smelled like some of Bobby’s old books.
There was an address written in fancy cursive on one side of the letter.
Mr D. Winchester
Living Room
Bobby Singer’s house
Sioux Falls, South Dakota, United States of America
Well, wasn’t that creepy. How did they know he was here? Was whoever sent this letter spying on him?
The ink was a dark red, but Dean didn’t think that it was blood, just regular red ink, just like what teachers used.
Without further ado, he opened the letter.