Song Remains the Same

Chapter 121: Underworld Overture

"What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love."
- Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The Next Day

"I don't get it though!" Sam complained in agitation as the two exhausted brothers exited the Impala. Nearby, the bunker silently towered. "Did she remember the lock combination somehow, was it a lucky guess?"

Dean slammed his door especially hard, his expression sour and tight. "Whichever one, it doesn't change the fact that she got out, she's gone and who knows how far she's gotten by now. Sam, we just looked for that girl—" he checked his watch— "for six fucking hours!" The side of his fist banged down on the roof of the Impala in a frustrated thud. They'd had her at the bunker for less than twenty-four hours and she'd found a way to run away. Of course, Dean blamed himself first and his brother second. "Dammit, Sam—I knew we should have taken shifts and watched the doors, man, knew it!" His face gave away his every stress and despair. "Runnin' around out there with no memory, I mean what the hell! I know she thought I was a terrible person but did she really need to run off?! It's not safe out there! Why didn't she listen?"

Across from him at the other side of the car, Sam's expression was taxed and worried too. "Maybe she'll come back?" he chanced, but he couldn't muster genuine hopefulness.

Dean shook his head doubtfully and dragged his hand across his face in an effort to get a grip. And then he began to stare into nothing as if recalling something. "Hey, wait. Wait, maybe Cas made off with her," he said, starting to talk faster as he looked at Sam urgently. "Yeah, he was here last night, woke me up like middle of the freakin' graveyard shift—actually kinda thought I dreamed it I was so dead asleep."

Sam jumped on board with that theory. "What, so... maybe he took her somewhere to keep her safe?" he ventured. "From that Naomi angel he mentioned?"

Although for a second Dean had been encouraged, he was looking pissy again. "Well if that's the case, why won't he answer my goddamn bat signal? Called that dude, what, ten times already!" He let out a harsh breath just before a disgruntled mutter. "This is fucking ridiculous, man."

Sam's haggard face showed grim frustration. "Yeah, he could have left some kind of 'sorry I missed you' if that's what happened..." he muttered, then abruptly ran his hands across his face and let out a huge huff of air before letting out a short, dark laugh. "Jesus Christ, man. If it isn't one thing with us, it's something else, huh?" He shook his head a few times and then asked a question he'd already asked but didn't remember asking. "Hey, any of her old phones showing GPS activity?"

Short on patience after the day they'd had, Dean gave his brother a death glare and began to stalk around the car. "I told you, she didn't take anything." He glanced around at the nearby area with a stony face. "Ground's too dry to know which way she went, no one at any of the local places saw her... I bet you ten bucks she hitched a ride with some stranger off the highway." When he said that, both brothers faces darkened with helpless frustration and fear. Their worst nightmare. This was like when Alex had been mute and younger, but now it was a million times worse. She didn't remember who she was—or that they were the good guys—and there was no telling where she'd gone or what she was doing. Dean looked positively sick with this new reality. "Just hope she remembers how to stab someone if it comes to that."

Similarly upset, Sam nodded vaguely, too distressed to summon much of a response. "Let's just hope Cas has her," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the bleak landscape nearby for anything they'd missed earlier. But he knew they'd been thorough. First checking every inch of the bunker and then combing the immediate surrounding area for clues about where she'd gone. But they'd found nothing. Only a few footprints near the car where the ground was concave and still damp from rain earlier that week. Aside from the footprints there had been nothing else. Sam was kicking himself for not locking her in her room or sleeping at her door again—something, anything to have guaranteed she couldn't slip out of their fingers. And why won't Cas answer our prayers? Sam was honestly so upset he wanted to cry. Things just weren't going right for them anymore. Ever. It was hard to hold it together. So hard.