Move on

Sam

Dean hoped for Thomas' sake that the car ride was silent. And for the most part it was, until they found the train track and started following it, looking for any kind of warehouse that Sam might be held in.

"So, you and Cas, you've known each other a while," Thomas didn't look up from the map as he spoke.

Dean tossed the man a glare, it wasn't posed as a question, so he didn't respond.

"What happened between you two?" Thomas asked when Dean didn't say anything.

"Why don't we just focus on finding my brother, huh?" Dean growled. He was not going to play therapist with this guy.

"Okay, fine. I just think talking about it is a good idea."

"And did Cas? Talk about it?" Dean snapped. Part of him was sure Cas hadn't but then part of him was suddenly worried that he had.

Had Cas told this stranger their business? How Dean always pushed Cas away? How Cas always left? How he was planning on moving on? How Dean should have stopped him but instead he let him go?

"Some," Thomas answered simply.

"What did he say?" Dean found himself asking. His hands gripping the wheel tighter.

"Not much honestly. But he cares about you. Or he did. I can't decide if he still does or not. I know he's not okay. That much he did say," Thomas looked thoughtful, like he was recalling a conversation.

Dean licked his lips before pursing them together. It was hard to hear that Cas wasn't okay. He had hoped that Cas would be ask broken as him, but he had also hoped that the angel finally found peace away from Dean. He was toxic, he knew that. Everyone knew that. Anyone who entered Dean's life put a timer on theirs. He'd lost Cas too many times already. To Lucifer. To Raphael. The Leviathans. Purgatory. April. Lucifer again. Each time it hurt worse than the last. He wanted Cas to be happy. He wanted Cas to find peace. Dean knew that would never happen so long as he was in the angel's life. But hearing that he was no more happy away from Dean gave him hope and also made him sick. What did they have to do to deserve their happy ending? Why must they sacrifice theirs so that everyone else could have one?

"Dean?" Thomas waved a hand, pulling Dean from his existential crisis.

"What?" he snapped.

"There's a warehouse just off the next road, might be where Sam is," Thomas pointed at his phone where he had an aerial view of their location pulled up.

"Good," Dean nodded. He needed to stay focused on the case. He could worry about Cas once his brother was safe.

"No word from Cas yet, that means that we don't know what we're dealing with."

"Hopefully we can just get Sam and get out," Dean pulled up the path to a large abandoned warehouse. It looked like it had been used to store tractors as there were a few abandoned ones that looked like they hadn't seen a field in years.

"Here's hoping," Thomas nodded.

They climbed out of the impala and to the trunk where Dean grabbed an angel blade, tucking it into his jacket. He double checked his gun to see that it was loaded. He slipped a flask of holy water into his other jacket pocket and scanned the area. It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Here's how this goes," Dean started, his eyes still scanning. "you watch my six, if you see something, shoot it. Don't wander off on your own, got it?" He was aware that he was talking to Thomas like he was a ten year old kid, but he couldn't afford any mistakes. His brother's life was on the line.

Thomas only nodded, his own weapons now tucked into their places.

Dean gestured for Thomas to follow him as he headed for the warehouse. The side door was slightly ajar, allowing the pair to slip in silently.

Dean grimaced as a harsh scent filled his nose. Something was dead in here.

"Dean," Thomas nudged the older Winchester before pointing up.

Dean looked up and instantly regretted it.

Strung from the ceiling were dead pigs. 

"Horrifying isn't it?" A melodic voice spoke then, startling Dean. "But it hides the smell of decaying corpses." 

Dean pointed his gun to a woman in a long black lace dress. Her shoulders exposed, while the collar came up around her neck, almost too tightly. She was covered in tattoo like markings and her red hair reached messily to her shoulders.

"Oh put that away. You can't hurt me. Not with that," She rolled her eyes.

"Who are you?" Thomas asked, his own gun up as well.

"You don't know?" She raised a brow curiously at the pair.

"You know, for hunters you aren't that smart. I thought I'd have to pick you off one by one, but you've hand delivered yourselves to me," She smiled, taking a step.

"Where's my brother?" Dean demanded, not moving despite her advances.

"Oh the tall one? You don't need to worry about him," She waved a dismissive hand.

Thomas opened fire then, shooting the woman three times in the chest.

Dean looked at the other hunter with wide eyes.

"That was unnecessary?" She snapped, seemingly unscathed. With a wave of her hand she threw Dean and Thomas back into a large stack of tractor tires.

"Go find Sam, I'll distract her," Thomas whispered.

Before Dean could argue Thomas was rushing the woman with a blade in hand.

Dean set his jaw but decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He used the stacks of tires, and other abandoned tractors to make his way around the room. He weaved through large shelves stacked to the ceiling with tractor parts, until he came to a table where his brother's body was lying.

Sam was lying still, too still, covered in his own blood, too much blood.

Dean stumbled forward, his ears ringing. "No," he pleaded in a whisper. "Sammy."

Dean touched his brother's too cold hand. He was too late. Sam was gone. She had killed him.

Dean's knees met the hard cement below him, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of losing his brother.

Tears forced his vision to blur, but he couldn't move to wipe them away. He was frozen in place.

"Dean?" Sam's voice spoke, causing Dean to blink the tears out of his eyes, forcing them down his face. But Sam hadn't moved. His lips were still, his eyes closed.

"Dean."

Dean frowned, he was hearing his brother's voice, but his brother was dead. He wasn't breathing. He was cold to the touch. He was covered in too much blood. His mind was only playing tricks on him. He was only hearing his brother's voice because of the grief. Sam wasn't saying his name. And he never would again.