Crossroads - Supernatural Rewrite

Asylum

Dean sat slouched in the worn out chair of their rundown motel room, the dim lighting barely illuminating the pages of John's journal he was flipping through. Across from him, Kat leaned forward over one of her mother's journals, her hair falling like a dark curtain around her face.

Sam sat on the edge of one of the beds, phone in hand, his voice tense as he made yet another call. His frustration grew with every rejection, every shake of the head from someone on the other end of the line who hadn't seen or heard from John. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he hung up.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked, not looking up from his journal.

"Nope," Sam replied. "And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim."

"What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asked, his voice strained.

Dean let out a small huff. "Same as last time I looked—nothing I can make out. I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda."

Kat snorted softly, flipping to another page in her mom's journal. "Yeah, my mom was no better." She tapped her pen against the table, deep in thought. "If we had the time, I could try piecing some of this together, but it'd take days. There's stuff in here i've never even heard of."

Sam wasn't listening anymore, his jaw tightening. "You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's."

Dean's head snapped up. "We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail."

"I don't care anymore," Sam shot back, his voice rising. "After all that happened back in Kansas... I mean, he should've been there Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him, and nothing."

Dean sighed, standing up abruptly. "I know." He rummaged through his duffel bag, muttering under his breath as his phone rang. "Where the hell is my cellphone?"

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam continued, his voice weighted.

"Don't say that!" Dean snapped, turning sharply. "He's not dead. He's—he's..." He trailed off, his voice faltering.

Kat leaned forward almost defensively, "He's not dead, Sam."

Sam leaned forward, pressing. "Then he's what? He's Hiding? He's Busy?"

Kat's voice was steady and sure. "He's alive." Both brothers looked at her. "If he wasn't, we'd know."

Dean straightened and pulled his cellphone out of the duffel. The screen lit up with a single notification. "I don't believe it..." He said, relief clear in this voice.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean's voice dropped, a small smile on his face. "It's a text message. It's coordinates."

Kat got to her feet, crossing the room quickly. "Coordinates? From who?"

Dean held up the phone. "Unknown number."

Sam frowned. "You think Dad sent it?"

"He's done it before," Dean said, moving to the small desk and powering up the laptop.

"The man can barely work a toaster, Dean," Sam said skeptically.

Dean quickly looked up at his brother. "Sam, this is good news. It means he's okay—or alive at least."

————————————————————

The motel room felt even smaller with the weight of tension hanging between the brothers. Dean sat hunched over the desk, the glow of the laptop reflecting off his face. Kat stood leaned over the back of his chair, scanning the screen with him.