for bloodnbadthings

Sam can still remember the exact time of day, down to probably the minute, Dad came to Stanford to tell him Dean was dead, that he'd really died. He could still remember how he numbly took the keys to the Impala that was apparently his now, like Sam actually wanted it, wanted that reminder of his brother. They'd talked for awhile after, too, tried to make amends, but it all was kind of blurred together and hazy. The shock had been horrible, the pain of losing the man who'd practically raised him and cared for him was sharp and impossible to ignore. Like losing a piece of yourself, like losing an arm or leg... it was like having to learn to live all over again without something you took for granted.

Granted he hadn't talked to his brother since coming to Stanford, but it wasn't the same. Not talking to Dean and knowing he wasn't there for when Sam needed him, truly needed him, or hell... just wanted to bite the bullet and smooth things over with his big brother... it was horrible. Like realizing you wasted time, a punch in the face that you were too stupid and arrogant to realize that maybe you wouldn't have all the time in the world to make things right.

Somehow he continued on though, stayed at Stanford, tried not to listen to that little voice that reminded him how many things sounded off about his dad's story because... Dad wouldn't lie about this. Not about Dean.

But then he lost someone else important to him. Jess... he'd seen her on the ceiling, watched her burn, and he doesn't even remember clearly how he'd made it out of the wreckage. He honestly didn't know how he convinced himself up when the one good thing in his life was being taken away. She hadn't deserved that, hadn't deserved Sam ruining her life. Thing was? He had dreams about that happening to her weeks before and the guilt was almost overwhelming sometimes.

That night, he called Dad and tried desperately to get a hold of him only to come up short every time. Dad was missing and he tried not to let it bother him, but honestly, it was just the final straw. Before he knew it, Sam was back on the road in the Impala again, back loaded with weapons and on a hunt. Not for monsters, not for his father, but for Dean. He had to be sure.

Dad hadn't burned or salted his body and that didn't make sense, along with so many other things, little things. He didn't think Dad would lie about Dean being dead... but there were a lot of other things that could have happened. Needed to find Dean's body or find him alive... in whatever condition. He needed that closure or maybe he just needed a distraction from Jess and even from his own father disappearing in a time he needed him, really needed someone there for him that understood her death hadn't been an accident, that she'd been murdered.

Then again, Dad had never been that for him anyway. Why would he start now?

So maybe he was just chasing down a dream, something so ridiculous and foolish just because Dean was Dean and his big brother hadn't ever failed to be there for him before when it really counted. Maybe he was just tired of feeling like he was missing something, like he had a hole in him that just kept getting bigger. Whatever the case, Sam had made damn sure to follow Dean's trail before he disappeared to a T, asking around for him and doing all the research he could to find anything out about him.

If he didn't find Dean, maybe he could take some kind of revenge at least... revenge for something, anything. He needed something to keep him going, needed help tracking down Jess' killer and it was obvious Dad wouldn't be that. Couldn't even find the man right now. That was worrisome by itself... Couldn't lose all three people close to him, dammit.