Stage of Salvation

10.01 Hunt or be Hunted

I woke up with a jolt, the sound of the quiet motel room too loud in my ears. I glanced around at the peeling beige wallpaper, blinking at the unfamiliar haze of early morning. It took me a moment to register where I was due to the terrible sleep I got. I sat up, rubbing my face with one hand, the cold morning air pricking my skin. There was no sign of Sam, no note, no sound. And then it hit me, Sam had left during the night. I had watched him leave with my own eyes. My stomach turned in knots. Why hadn't I woken Dean? Why hadn't I stopped him? I could've at least asked him why he was leaving. But I hadn't. And now, he's gone. I got dressed and pulled on my jacket, trying not to let the panic creep in. I walked over to Dean, who was still snoring lightly in his bed, his face buried in the pillow. I didn't want to wake him, but I knew I had no choice.
"Dean," I said quietly, shaking his shoulder. "Dean, wake up." He groaned and shifted, but didn't open his eyes. I shook him harder, a little more insistent. "Dean, wake up. Sam's gone."
That did the trick. Dean shot up in bed, blinking at me with confusion before his eyes snapped open, full of alarm. "What? Gone? What the hell are you talking about?"
"He left last night," I said, my voice tight, my pulse quickening. "I saw him slip out when you were asleep."
Dean's eyes darted to the empty bed, and for a moment, he just stared at it, as if he couldn't believe what I was saying. "Goddamn it," He muttered, shoving the covers off and reaching for his phone. He dialed Sam's number with shaky hands, but it went straight to voicemail after the third ring. "Sam, pick up the damn phone," Dean growled, pacing the small room, the panic in his voice unmistakable. "Where the hell are you, man?" I stood in the corner of the room, watching Dean, waiting for him to get the answers he was looking for. But when the voicemail beeped, Dean cursed again and tossed his phone back on the bed. "This is not good."
"Where the hell would he go?" I asked, more to myself than to Dean, my voice full of frustration. "We don't even know where to look."
Dean didn't answer at first. He ran a hand through his hair and paced again, clearly thinking. "Let's get out there. We'll find him. We've got to." The urgency in his voice made me feel a little better, but not much. I followed him out of the room, locking the door behind me as we made our way to the Impala. Dean slammed the car door, his fingers tight around the wheel as we pulled out of the Velvet Inn Motel parking lot. The engine of the Impala roared to life, but the silence between us felt heavy, too quiet. Neither of us spoke for a long while. Eventually, Dean pulled into a small, run-down diner off the side of the highway. It was one of those places that looked like it hadn't been renovated in decades. A neon sign buzzed faintly in the window, casting a dim, sickly glow. The air inside was thick with the scent of stale coffee and grease. We slid into a booth in the back, the vinyl squeaking under the weight of our tired bodies. I glanced over at Dean, who had his elbows on the table, his fingers tapping against the side of his coffee cup in a rhythm that only he seemed to understand. "Alright," He said after a long pause, his voice quiet. "How do you think he ended up gone like this?"
I stared at the menu in front of me, not really seeing it. I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. "I don't know. Maybe. It's hard to say. I just... I don't get it, Dean. He was fine. Hell, we were all fine last night. Then he just... left."
Dean's jaw tightened, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. "He's always been like that, though. Taking off when he feels like he has to deal with things alone. It's not new. I mean, hell, I've been dealing with it for years." I swallowed, not sure how to answer that. I knew Dean had always been the one Sam relied on, the one Sam let in, but that didn't mean I didn't see the cracks in their relationship. The tension that always simmered beneath the surface.
"Maybe he just needed some space after you told him you might have to waste him if he went full Patrick Bateman on us." I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended. Dean didn't respond, just leaned back in the booth, his eyes fixed on his coffee. As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I knew it hit a nerve with him. Dean didn't want to hurt Sam, hell, neither of us did. We both knew Sam wasn't a monster and never will be. A few minutes later, the waitress came by, dropping off a couple of plates of scrambled eggs and toast. We finished our food in silence, and then we got back in the Impala, ready to continue our search. The road stretched out before us, the engine humming beneath us as we sped down the highway, and all I could think about was Sam. Where the hell had he gone? And why the hell hadn't he said anything? Dean drove, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, with me sitting shotgun. The hours passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of road signs. I kept glancing at him, wondering what was going through his head, but neither of us spoke. That is, until my phone rang, breaking the stillness.
"Hello?" I answered, my voice a little more tense than I meant.
"Toralei, it's Ellen."
I blinked in surprise and whispered to Dean, "It's Ellen," as I put the phone on speaker. "Have you heard from Sam?"
"I have, but he made me promise not to tell you guys where he is," She tells us.
"Come on, Ellen, please," Dean's voice was strained, almost desperate. "Something's not right. He's my brother and I swore I'd look after him."
Ellen was quiet for a moment before answering, "Well, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever." Dean and I exchanged a look at that. "But I say fuck that. What else is family for? He's in Lafayette, Indiana." Relief flooded through me as I thanked Ellen quickly, hanging up the phone. I glanced over at Dean, seeing the weight lift from his shoulders too.
"Alright, let's go get him," Dean said, his voice steady now, the urgency back in his eyes. When we finally pulled into Lafayette, Indiana, Dean drove the Impala into the parking lot of the first motel we spotted off the highway. We weren't sure if this would be the place Sam was staying, but we figured it was worth a shot. As we got out and made our way toward the building, both of us froze when we spotted Sam through the window of a room on the first floor. The tension in my chest melted away instantly.
"Oh, thank god he's okay," I breathed, relief flooding through me. Sam moved aside, and for a split second, I thought he was alone. But then, I saw her. A woman standing beside him in the room.
Dean's grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, he's better than okay," He said with a chuckle. "Sam, you sly dog. I knew it. Leave it to my little brother to get himself into trouble... or something like that." We quickly got out of the Impala and rushed toward the entrance of the motel where Sam the mystery woman was. But before we could get any closer, the window of Sam's room shattered with a deafening crack as a bullet tore through it. Sam and the woman hit the ground just in time, narrowly avoiding the gunfire. Across the street, I noticed Gordon Walker perched on a rooftop, a sniper rifle aimed right at the motel room. He fired again and I could see the precision in his every move. Without thinking, Dean bolted toward the street, already knowing what he needed to do. He shot me a look that left no room for argument, stay put while he went after Gordon. I wanted to protest, but Dean was already running. Minutes passed and there was still no sign of him. My eyes kept darting to the motel room window, watching for any movement. When I saw Sam and the woman move inside, I knew it was time. I moved quickly, heading toward the direction Dean had gone, my hand gripping the drop-point knife tucked at my side. I climbed the steps to the rooftop carefully, trying to keep as quiet as possible.
"Dean?" I called, my voice barely a whisper. The silence answered me until I spotted him motionless, sprawled on the ground. "Dean!" Panicked gripped me and I rushed forward, but before I could take another step, a figure appeared from behind me. Gordon's hand shot out, grabbing my arm and slamming me hard into the cement wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me and my knife slipped from my hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. His arm wrapped around my throat in an instant, pulling me close, cutting off my air.
"Now, now, sweetheart. Calm down. It's okay," Gordon taunted, his voice low and dark. His grip tightened and I gasped for oxygen, my hands clawing at his arm as I struggled to break free. "I'm not going to hurt you at all," He grunted, as I fought to break his hold, each attempt only making his grip stronger. But before I could fight back any more, darkness enveloped me entirely.