Chapter Text
Sam was just glad he was heading back to the motel, even if he had to walk. They had just finished the case involving a nest of werewolves. Dean was still at the site, cleaning up the mess and erasing their trails. The hunt got messy, and it took the entire night. He was tired, so he decided to head back to the motel.
And he was done. He was so done with the look on Dean's face. That bone-deep exhausted look, tight shoulders like they carried too much. (It was way more than just exhaustion, yeah, he knew.) Even though Dean wouldn't say a word, Sam knew what was going on.
Ever since their talk after that Pishtaco case, he could practically see the weight Dean carried. It was there before, when they met at the hospital for Garth's case. He saw Dean, and he saw that grief, guilt, and weight. But the boost after he said those words was something he had expected, yet it still surprised him.
It's easy when they work. Exchanging theories and focusing on the case makes everything else a second priority. But otherwise, he was so done with that look. He knew what his words could do. He knew exactly what they did. But he wasn't going to use the excuse of family for what Dean did. And he wasn't guilty because he meant it. He had to get through to Dean, and he picked the only way he could. And even if that meant hurting him, so be it.
The motel room was only a few minutes away from the hunt site. It was still dark. He checked the time. 3:40 in the morning.
Clouds had gathered long ago, and it was now raining lightly from the dark sky. He rounded the corner toward the motel when he heard a soft whimper in the dark and turned toward the sound. Moving a little closer, he saw there was a kid sitting against the bark of a tree beside the walkway, knees hugged to his chest. Sam couldn't see his face clearly. It was dark, raining, and the boy was crying, huddled in the corner trying to hide from the rain and the dark.
"Hey, you're lost?" he said slowly, walking toward the kid. The kid stood up and started backing away.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I am not gonna hurt you," Sam said softly as he crouched a few feet away from him. The boy was barely five, shivering and crying.
He pressed himself against the tree as much as he could. Sam softened his voice even more.
"How did you get here?" He wasn't expecting an answer. Thunder rumbled, and the child let out a frightened cry. Sam winced at the sound.
He tried asking his name, how he got here, if he was hurt, and where his parents were, but the kid wasn't responding to him. The boy started crying harder. It was late, and he was really doubting the thought of calling the police with all the hunting gear he had with him. Looking at the child, it seemed like he had a bleeding cut on his arm.
Sam was weighing his options when suddenly the boy attempted to run away.
"Hey, woah, it's okay..." Restraining himself from chasing him, he stood up. "Wait, I..." Before he could finish, the boy made a short run of a few steps and collapsed.
Sam rushed toward him. The small frame lay still on the empty road. The kid was unconscious. And now that he could see his face clearly, the boy looked oddly familiar. Round face, dark brown hair that was nearly shoulder length. Sam picked him up carefully and adjusted him against his shoulder. With a lack of options, he decided to bring him to the motel. He could see it from where he was. It was just a minute away.
Sam entered the motel with the little boy and laid him on the bed closest to the door. He could bring the child to the front desk in the morning. Till then, he had to figure out how to keep the kid from crying. Maybe Dean could help with that. From his earlier interaction with the boy, he figured it would be difficult. He sighed, and after locking the door and checking the salt lines, he went to the bathroom.
After about twenty minutes, the boy stirred and let out a muffled cry in his slumber. Sam had changed and was about to clean the cut on his leg, something that came with their job. That was when someone knocked on the door.
He crossed the distance and cautiously opened it to find Dean on the other side. And damn, that look never left his face.
"Wait." Sam stepped outside the room, and Dean frowned. "Found a lost kid. He collapsed, and I had to bring him in," he explained shortly.
Dean looked confused, then nodded. "It's pretty late. How did a kid get here?" He could see the small sleeping figure behind Sam, but he couldn't make out his face.
"I don't know," Sam replied tersely. Dean didn't say anything. It was pouring out there, and Dean was soaking in the rain.
They both heard a whimper from inside, and Sam turned. But there was something about the sound that made Dean freeze. It felt too familiar.
"Hey, we're not gonna hurt you, okay?" Sam tried to coax him. He took a step forward, and Dean stepped in behind him.
Dean could see the kid standing between the two beds, but Sam was blocking his view of the child's face. Another soft cry, and a fierce feeling of familiarity and protectiveness washed over Dean. It nearly stole the air from his lungs. He had to take a careful breath to restrain himself from shoving Sam aside so he could look at the kid.
"Wh-where i-is my brother?" the small voice asked tearfully.
Dean's breath caught. He recognized that voice. Knew it like instinct.
Sam looked at the trembling kid and softened his voice. "He is no..." But before Sam could finish, he was shoved aside. The kid pressed himself against the nightstand at the sudden movement, a new figure towering over him.
Sam regained his balance and quickly said, "Hey, it's okay..." He turned toward Dean, giving him an annoyed look. But Dean just stood there with wide, confused eyes, his expression looking like he'd just seen a ghost. He frowned, then looked back at the kid. The boy started to cry, quivering against the nightstand and almost choking on his tears. He was clutching his injured arm closer.
Dean stepped fully inside, looking at the boy with an expression Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. Dean crouched a few feet away from him. Sam was about to say something when—
"Hey, it's okay," Dean called out gently.
The kid looked at him for the first time since he got there. When those big, teary hazel eyes met emerald green ones, something inside Dean clenched tight.
"Sammy?" Dean asked.
Sam turned toward him, frowning again because Dean wasn't looking at him.
"Your name is Sammy, right?" he asked softly, sounding a little unsure. And for a moment Sam thought Dean had hit his head pretty hard during their recent hunt, but surprisingly, the boy gave a shaky nod.
"H-how did y-you know my n-name?" Sammy managed between sobs and sniffles.
Dean's expression softened, and he gave his best reassuring smile. But Sam could tell Dean was freaked out.
"I, uh... I know your dad, John. We used to work together," Dean said with a small smile.
Sam was too startled to do anything but stare at the kid because he knew him from the old pictures and stories Dean had told him.
Dean glanced back toward Sam and then focused on the terrified, shaking kid. "I know your Uncle Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb, your dad's friend Rory. And, uh... your mom too. We all used to work together."
Sammy still looked at him skeptically, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks from those terrified hazel eyes. Heart-wrenching sobs cut right through Dean. But he forced his voice to stay steady and as calm as he could manage.
"I know your brother as well."
That got a reaction.
Sammy blinked at him through his tears, still scared to speak. When he did, his voice was small, desperate, and hopeful.
"Is he here?"
A small, innocent question could gut someone. Dean hadn't expected that.
"No, he is not here. But we can help you find him, okay?" Dean coaxed softly.
Another small nod, and finally something softened in the kid's posture. He didn't stop crying, though. And he didn't move away from the nightstand.
Dean smiled again before standing up slowly, careful not to startle him any more, and turned toward Sam.
Sam, who was still standing at the door in complete shock, with wide eyes and looking at the little boy like he had stolen his computer, saw Dean and finally spoke.
"Dude... who... what the hell?"
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