Missing Pieces, 5/8

[mamapranayama]

A/N: Thanks again for reading this story and for all of the reviews. I appreciate it and you guys all rock! :)

Here is an extra-long chapter for you:


Chapter 5

"Not bad, Sam." Rhonda stated encouragingly, walking along Sam's side as he gripped the parallel bars and stepped carefully forward. "Keep going."

"You're such a slave driver, Rhonda," Dean quipped as he walked into the physiotherapy gym and approached them while Sam continued to perform his exercises.

"Oh hi, Dean." Sam's physical therapist looked up and smiled cheerfully with a coquettish twinkle in her eye.

Sam rolled his eyes.

Rhonda was a motherly kind of woman and had to be at least in her mid-forties. She was far too old for Dean's tastes, but he was a natural charmer and had an effect on women of all ages that made them go weak in the knees.

Sam shifted his weight onto his right leg and tried to ignore his brother's presence as he took a step forward with his newly fitted prosthetic. He was still a little wobbly on the damn thing, and he hadn't dared to let go of the bars yet, but the sensation of having something where his leg used to be was worth the pain that the exercises caused, but even that was getting better. He was already strong enough on his right leg to hobble along on crutches and Dean had made sure that he got plenty of exercise, dragging him out of the house, even on the days when his missing leg was giving him fits, never taking 'no' for an answer. Dean started him on walks back and forth between the rows of junked cars at Bobby's the day after he arrived and eventually they stretched out their walks to nearly half a mile at a time. Sam didn't even need the brace on his right leg anymore and it had only been two weeks since his brother had shown up and while Sam hadn't said anything of the sort aloud to his brother, he was grateful to have him around.

Sam and Dean used their walks to get to know each other again. They talked about what Sam had been doing at school, Dean talked about some of the hunts they had been on, and they also talked about totally inane stuff such as who was hotter, Jessica Alba or Halle Berry - Halle Berry won. But one subject that had been taboo was their father, Sam didn't ask if Dean had talked to him and his brother remained tight-lipped about where he was.

And that was just fine with him, he wasn't sure if he was ready to even think about it. While he couldn't help but love the man, there was still so much anger and hurt there that he wasn't sure he could handle a face-to-face meeting anytime soon. He didn't want to deal with that kind of rejection again, especially now that he was permanently off the varsity hunting team and his father was sure to see him as worthless, damaged goods.

"Okay, Sam. I think that should do it for today." Rhonda said and reached for Sam's crutches. She offered them over to him, but he waved them away for the time being.

"I just want to go across one more time. I think I almost got it." Sam insisted.

"Well aren't you an eager beaver today." Rhonda beamed then stood close to Sam as he turned around and headed back to other way.

"He just likes to show off around the ladies." Dean snarked with a grin and Sam resisted flipping him the bird in front of his matronly therapist.

Sam had been practicing on his new leg for over an hour now and while he was starting to get a little sore since the stump of his leg was still a little overly sensitive within the socket of the prosthetic and he was still getting used to bearing any kind of weight on it, he wanted to keep trying it out. On top of that, Dean was there, looking on with a wide, toothy smile and Sam hadn't seen such genuine glee on his brother's face in quite a while.

Sam was only a few steps away from the end of the bars when a sudden sharp, twisting cramp attacked his left thigh and shot its way up. Sam gritted his teeth and sucked in a shape breath and he would have gone down if Rhonda hadn't been right by his side the whole time, catching him.

"You okay, Sam?" Dean asked, joining Rhonda in the effort to keep him upright.

"Cramp." Sam mustered the word out between breaths.

Rhonda and Dean both helped Sam away from the bars and into a chair. As soon as he was seated, Rhonda removed the prosthetic then started rubbing Sam's leg to help relieve the muscle spasms coursing through it.

"Just breathe through it, Sam." Rhonda instructed. Dean hovered behind Sam and he could feel his supportive hand on his shoulder.

It took a couple of minutes of Rhonda massaging his leg before the cramps began to dissipate and the pain let him go. When it finally disappeared, he felt hollowed-out an exhausted.

"Better now?" Rhonda asked as Sam began to relax.

"Yeah … thank-you."

"No problem. You're lucky I was here; I've been told that I have magic fingers," Rhonda kidded with a wink, wiggling her fingers for effect. Sam gave her a quick, uncomfortable grin and tried not to appear a little creeped out that she had just had her 'magic fingers' all over his thigh.

She then patted Sam's shoulder, "Don't worry, you probably just over did it a little bit and it's going to take time for your leg to adjust to the prosthetic."

Rhonda gave Sam a set of instructions and exercises to continue at home and handed the prosthetic to Dean to hold for him while Sam got his crutches. A few moments later they were out of the physiotherapy gym and heading out the door to the parking lot.

"Man, Sammy. I think that cougar had thing for you - she couldn't keep her hands off of ya," Dean pointed out and grinned jokingly as he opened the car door for his brother, "But then again, sometimes it's better to go for a woman with a little of experience, if you know what I mean."

"Not that much experience," Sam quickly replied with a shudder, getting into the car.

Dean climbed in behind the steering wheel, still carrying Sam's new artificial leg. Dean handed Sam the leg and quipped, "You got to admit, that thing's pretty cool. I guess this means we can start calling you the bionic man now - just like Lee Majors."

"Lee Majors was the Six-Million Dollar Man - not the bionic man," Sam corrected him; "Lindsay Wagner was the bionic one."

"Okay … so I'll call you the bionic woman … you look more like Lindsay Wagner with that shaggy hair of yours anyway, bitch."

Sam raised the leg threateningly, but with a playful grin, "Shut up, jerk or I'll beat you over the head with this thing."

OOOOOO

The next morning...

The house was dark and loomed ahead as John pulled his truck into the lot of the salvage yard. He parked next to the Impala which confirmed to him that his sons were still inside the home and he shut off the engine.

John had driven straight from Florida, only stopping for gas along the way and forgoing any sleep in order to turn a normally 30-hour journey into an 18-hour one. But, now that he had arrived, he was hesitant to go to the door.

There were all kinds of things he wanted to say to his sons - especially Sam, but he had no idea where he should start. Dean would be angry that he hadn't called back - that he had put the job first before finally checking his phone to hear his messages. And Sam … well … how could he tell him that he hadn't meant the things he said - that he had only been so scared for Sam taking off on his own that he nearly lost his mind? How could he apologize without losing face - without his boys thinking that he was weak or that he couldn't stand by the decisions he made?

Even though he had been wrong … so very wrong - how was he going to admit that?

Bottom line, he was scared.

John had been in war, faced monsters, witches, ghosts, and all sorts of things that would frighten the pants off of ordinary people, but somehow, facing his sons and coming clean about his mistakes was the most terrifying thing he had ever had to deal with.

He ran a hand across his tired face. It was well past 2 AM, he was exhausted, and the house gave no sign that anyone inside was awake. Perhaps it would be for the best if he left, got some sleep, and returned in the morning when he and his boys might be in a more agreeable mood.

He gave one last, long look at the house then started the engine again and pulled away.

OOOOOO

Dean heard the rumble of the engine through the window and was instantly awake. He knew without looking through the window who it was that had just pulled up to the house, yet he still carefully peered through it to get a visual.

From his vantage point on the second floor, Dean saw the big, black truck parked alongside his car and ground his teeth together. It had been two weeks of him calling and leaving message after message with his father and now he was just going to show up?

He hadn't had a chance to prepare Sam for the inevitable show-down that would undoubtedly occur between prodigal son and father and he wasn't even sure that his brother was up to it yet.

Dean turned and decided to head his father off at the pass before he barged into the house and the fireworks could begin. He was only as far as the stairs when he heard the engine of the big truck rev back up and by the time he made it to the door and the porch, the big truck was already half-way down the driveway and almost to the road.

"Shit …" Dean muttered angrily, watching the truck and his father drive off, "Oh no you don't -"

Dean wasn't really thinking when he ran back into the house and grabbed his car keys, but he was going to talk to his father and a phone call wasn't going to cut it. He needed to see him face to face before he came back and demanded to see Sam and got the same shock Dean had received when he first saw his brother's missing leg.

Keeping a safe distance from the truck as he drove, Dean followed him to a run-down motel on the edge of town. His father was already in the motel office getting a room as he pulled up next to the truck and parked.

Dean got out of the car just as he father was leaving the office, "Dad -"

John stopped and appraised his son, "Dean. You need to work on your tailing skills, son. I knew you were following me since Bobby's."

"Yeah … I figured."

Father and son stood face to face for a moment until John broke the mini-stalemate with a heavy sigh, "C'mon. Let's got to the room and talk."

Dean followed his father to the room, entered after him and shut the door only a moment before going off on him. "What the Hell, Dad? I called you two weeks ago … what happened? Have you been in Florida this whole time? Why didn't you call back?"

"Whoa -" John turned on his son, "You want to try scaling back the attitude?"

Dean stepped back, feeling the heat of his father's eyes drilling into him and he cast his gaze down obediently, "Sorry …sir"

John sighed, tore off his jacket and tossed it on the bed. "Yeah … I was in Florida. That poltergeist case turned out to be longer than I expected and I guess I was too wrapped up in it to check my messages until yesterday and I drove straight up after I got them. Now what is this about Sam being in an accident? You were a little less than specific. Is he alright?"

Dean gulped and swallowed hard.

"I didn't want to tell you over voicemail … but uh …"

"What, Dean? Spit it out already."

Dean decided just to tell it like it was- like pulling off a bandaid off a hairy arm - better to just get it over with quick and in one go.

"Sam was hit by a drunk driver in a hit and run …" Dean started, "the car ran over his legs - busted one up pretty bad and the other - the other one couldn't be saved."

John stared at him incomprehensively, "What?"

Dean swallowed again, "He lost a leg, Dad."

John shook his head and started to pace, "When?"

"'bout three months ago while Sam was at school."

John stopped in his tracks, "Three months? …. Three months? And I'm just hearing about it now? Why weren't we called and why didn't you say so in your message? Son of a bitch! Did you and Bobby think you could really keep this from me?"

Dean raised his hands to ward off another explosion from his father and felt the sting of anger enter his voice, "Dad stop! Bobby tried, but he couldn't find us. We had to get rid of all of our old phones and hardly anyone knows our new numbers. Remember? The rugaru? And I tried to call you - but you never answered. I didn't tell you everything in the messages I left because I didn't want you to find out that way -I knew you'd be upset and I wanted to do it in person."

"You still should have told me, Dean." His father spat back. "All of it - even if it was over the phone."

"I know - I'm sorry, okay?" Dean came back apologetically, "But what's done is done. Look ... you're here now and you know what's going on, so can we talk about this without shouting?"

John shook his head, but appeared to cool off a little, "Goddammit … " John whispered and deflated in front of Dean's eyes like a balloon with a slow leak. He took a seat on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, then rubbed his hand across his face, looking suddenly older. He shook his head, still trying to absorb the news, "Sam … he uh … how is he?"

"He's better." Dean wasn't about to mention just how broken Sam was when he first saw him, but he told his father the truth when he said that Sam was getting better, because he was -each day he amazed Dean with his progress, "He went through a lot, but you know Sammy … he wasn't raised to be a wuss, so he's hanging in there."

"You uh … you think he'd be ready to see me?"

"I dunno … are you ready to see him? Are you ready to say you were wrong and let him back into the Winchester fan club?" Dean questioned back.

His father's hard eyes met Dean's pointed gaze and he knew that his father was still too stubborn and proud to admit that he had acted rashly. But John Winchester had never apologized for anything in his life, not even when the mistakes he made were enormous. For the longest time, Dean thought that was something that made his father a strong leader, but over the past year since his dad declared Sam persona non grata, some of that strident loyalty he had in the man had been eroded.

Dean suddenly felt a fresh wave of frustration with the whole situation between his brother and father and decided right then and there that something needed to be done about it and he needed to take a stand. Even if he was uncomfortable with taking sides, Sam was the one he needed to look out for the most right then.

"Look … " Dean started, "I know you both said some things that you regret, but you have to be willing to bite the big one and apologize. I know it's not something you're big into, and yes, Sam needs to apologize to you too. But one of you needs to make the first move and if it's not going to be you … then maybe you should just stay away for now."

John looked up sharply. There was a blaze of anger in his eyes that flashed bright for a moment then he dropped his head and stared back down at his lap, and said nothing.

Dean didn't have any more to say to his father and headed for the door to leave- it was all up to him now whether he and Sam could ever reconcile or if he would ever swallow his pride and admit that he was wrong.

"I'm going to stay with Sam at Bobby's for a while, so you'll know where we'll be whenever you make up your mind."

"Wait -" His father called from the bed, "What about the drunk driver? Did the police catch him?"

"Nah … they interviewed some guy that owned a car that matched the description Sam's friend gave to police, but his father was some sort of hot-shot lawyer and they couldn't find enough evidence to charge him. Why does it matter? There's not much we can do about it."

Dean saw his father's eyes darken dangerously. "I just needed to know."

OOOOOO

Unsurprisingly, John didn't show up the next day and when Dean drove by the motel, he found that his father had gone.
That same day he got a text message from his dad that consisted of four words: Take care of Sam. Dean regularly checked his phone for any other word from his dad after that, but every day it stayed stubbornly silent.

Dean never told Sam about their father's visit and he hid his anger and disappointment in his father as best as he could and instead focused all of his energy on getting his brother walking.

Another month went by and during that time Sam made progress on his new leg and soon he was walking without the use of crutches, using only a cane to help maintain his balance. Dean continued to take walks with Sam during this time to build up his strength and while he got along well with the cane, he still limped and their walks were usually taken at a rather slow pace.

It was on a  warm, summer day at the end of August that he and Sam were returning from one of these walks that Dean noticed that something was wrong. Sam's limping was getting worse, and by the time they were back in the salvage yard, he was red in the face and breathing hard. Dean could see by the way his brother's eyebrows came together in a 'V' that the pain in what was left of his leg was giving him some trouble.

Dean led Sam over to the bumper of a rusty, dead Ford and beckoned him to sit with him.

"You okay?" Dean asked right off.

Sam grunted as he sat down then started to roll up his pant leg and shucked off the artificial leg, tossing it to the ground, his nostrils flaring in frustration.

"What gives, man?" Dean demanded to know.

"It fucking hurts, that's what gives." Sam replied immediately, rubbing his leg angrily.

"Why didn't you say anything before we left?"

"Because … I need to get better at this and I'm sick of hobbling around like a gimp."

"There's no rush, Sam and you're getting better. Just last week we could only go a quarter of a mile and today we did twice that - there's no need to push so hard. You'll just end up hurting yourself."

Sam shook his head, "You don't understand … "

"What don't I understand?"

"I was hoping to … " Sam stopped, bent over and picked his leg up off of the ground, "forget it."

"Sam … What?"

Sam sighed heavily and dropped his head, "School's supposed to start in a few weeks…"

Ohhhh … Crap ….

"I've been thinking about going back. Can't stay here at Bobby's forever, ya know? But … How am I supposed to get around campus like this?"

"Why don't you just take a little more time off? We can talk about you going back next semester."

"Dean … I need to go back to save my scholarship … besides, I just want some things in my life to go back to normal."

Dean kicked at some pebbles at his feet. He should have seen this coming. He knew Sam would want to go back to school, but he had been naïve to think that it wouldn't be so soon.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sam had a point; life had to go sooner or later. On top of that, he always did have a hard time saying 'no' to his little brother.

"It's what you really want?"

"Yeah … I really want it."

"Okay … Then we'll get you ready " Dean nodded slowly, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of letting Sam go off on his own again. "Now … how's that leg doing?"

"S'just Sore."

"Bullshit. Lemme see."

"Dean …"

"Shut it, bitch … lemme see it."

Sam rolled his eyes then lifted his leg. Dean was past being hesitant to hold the stump of Sam's leg, but it still triggered a pang of grief whenever he did. However, now that his kid brother had his new leg, welts were starting for form where the pressure of the socket created friction. Even with the specialized sock Sam wore over the end of his stump, they were unable to prevent them and Dean made a mental note to make sure that he got Sam in for another appointment with the prothetist to get it refitted as soon as possible.

Dean carefully pulled off the sock and winced, the welts that had been there before were now full-blown, bleeding sores.

"Jeez, Sammy."

"It's not that bad …"

"Like Hell these aren't …c'mon, let's get you inside and get these cleaned up, then you can spend the rest of the day on the couch and out of that contraption."

"Sounds exciting." Sam mused sarcastically.

"Won't be so bad - I'll go out and rent us some movies - how does Mystery Science Theatre 3000 sound?"

"Which one? "

"How about Manos: The Hands of Fate?"

"Ehhh … What about The Brain That Wouldn't Die? - at least that one's got a plot."

"That's debatable, but why not?"

Dean helped Sam up from the bumper of the car and let his brother use him for support back into the house.

OOOOOO

Two weeks later

Bobby stood on the porch, watching Sam and Dean pack their things into the Impala with a heavy feeling in his heart. He'd never say that the last few months had been easy, because they hadn't, but all the same, he was really going to miss those two.

Sam was determined to go back to school and no amount of coaxing to get him to stay and recuperate a little longer on either his or Dean's part was going to change his mind. Though Sam had come far since those first few days in the hospital and had worked hard to get back his mobility and independence, he worried about what might happen when he was out of his sight.

Bobby almost felt a small connection there with John and why he had been such a dick about letting Sam go to college. But then again, Bobby could never imagine telling either of these boys to leave and never come back. Now that they were back in his life, he wouldn't hear of not seeing them again.

What Dean would do once Sam was back at school was another worry that weighed on the older hunter's mind as well. Dean was tight-lipped about his father, but Bobby wasn't born yesterday and it was clear that the young man was pissed as Hell at him. Yet given how many times a day Bobby caught Dean checking his phone for messages from the only person who had his number also told him that the kid was hurt by their separation and Bobby wouldn't be surprised if Dean didn't take off to find his father once Sam was safely back at classes.

Then there was the fact that Bobby was feeling rather sorry for himself as well. Once Sam and Dean were gone, he'd be back to making dinners for one and his house was going to feel even bigger and emptier than it had before. He had gotten used to their presence and even when they were bickering, hogging the shower, or eating every scrap of food in his fridge, it had been nice to feel needed - to be a part of their lives again and to be someone they could depend on.

Then again, maybe he was just getting old and tired of being alone all of the time.

Bobby sighed and walked down the steps of the porch and walked on over to the duo, "All set?" He asked.

Dean shut the trunk with a metallic bang, "Just about. You ready, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded and tossed his cane into the back seat then turned towards Bobby with a grateful smile. He shut the door and took a careful step forward, he still had balance issues, but he was getting better at moving around without crutches or the cane. Sam spread out his arms and Bobby didn't hesitate to pull the boy into a tight hug.

Sam responded with equal force and squeezed Bobby, speaking to him as he rested his chin on Bobby's shoulder, "You've done so much for me. I don't know how to thank you, Bobby."

Bobby pulled away, but kept a solid grip on Sam's upper arms, "Just come back and visit this old man once in a while and we'll call it even, got it?"

Sam grinned and nodded, "Sure … How does Thanksgiving sound? I'll even bring a turkey."

Bobby chuckled, and let Sam go, "As long as you're not the one to cook it. I'd rather not have my house burn down."

Dean sauntered up and slapped Bobby on the shoulder, "Well. Kids … I think it's time we got this show on the road," Dean held out his hand for him to shake, but Bobby had other ideas.

"Sam? You think you could give me and Dean a moment?" Sam nodded and climbed into the car. Once the door was shut, Bobby turned back to Dean.

"I guess you're planning on going back to hunting?" He asked the younger man.

"I don't know what else I would do. Besides, Sam doesn't really need me any more …"

"Bullshit, Dean. He's your brother and he'll always need you."

Dean looked down at his shoes for a moment then looked back up, "Thanks for everything Bobby … for taking care Sam and stuff."

"It was nothin' " Bobby sighed, "Look, son. I want you to take of yourself and if you need anything … anything all … you call me, you hear? And tell that idjit father of yours that when he gets his head out of his ass, then he's welcome back here as well, got it?"

"Yessir."

"Don't 'yessir' me, you moron. Just don't be a stranger, okay?"

Dean cocked a grin and slapped Bobby on the shoulder one last time before he walked over to the car, climbed in then drove off, leaving the older hunter and a cloud of dust behind.

OOOOOO

"You could always stick around for a while." Sam suggested, sitting in the car and looking at the building that would be his home for the next year once again. "You don't have to go right back into hunting, you know."

Sam turned his head towards his brother. Dean kept his sight ahead through the windshield as he gripped the steering wheel tight, "Nah … this is your thing, Sam. Not mine."

"Maybe it's not, but that doesn't mean can't find 'your thing', Dean … something that doesn't involve risking your skin everyday -" Sam added in a quieter voice, "something won't leave me sleepless at night worrying about you."

"I'll be fine."

Sam grit his teeth, it was time he laid it all bare, and let Dean know how he felt, "I know what you did, Dean - I know you must have stood up to dad in order for him to stay out of things for so long… and I gotta tell you … it took balls to do that and … I appreciate it. But now that I'm going back to school, that doesn't mean you have to go crawling back him. You don't have to live under his thumb-"

"Sam -" Dean cut Sam's rant short, turning to face him, registering as sudden fierceness, "He's our father. I know he's not perfect - maybe not even close … but what you don't get is that you're both so alike that it is downright scary - both of you too stubborn to apologize to each other. I get that maybe you just aren't meant to be around each other right now, but you're both still myfamily and I have to watch out for each of you. That's my job … it's my 'thing', as you call it. "

Sam paled and sat still in the tensely silent car with his brother. He swallowed the lump in his throat because this was it - he knew there was no talking Dean out of tracking down their father and going back to the lifestyle that Sam so desperately hated.

"Fine…" Sam croaked, "Just promise me that you'll stay safe, will ya?"

"You know I can't promise that, but I'll try. "

"You better."

Sam was out of the car with his backpack on and cane in hand after that, but before his brother could take off, he leaned into the open window, "Hey, when you find Dad -- if asks or if he cares ... just tell him that I'm okay -- that I'll be fine here."

"Yeah … I will." Dean assured him then added, "And he does care, Sammy. He just has a hard time showing it."

OOOOO

Dean found his father 30 miles from Vegas in a little town out in the desert. What the hell he was doing there or what he might have been hunting he wasn't sure, but when he knocked on the door to John's motel room, he was covered in dirt and had dark, exhausted circles under his eyes.

"Dean?" His father seemed genuinely surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

His father stood aside and let Dean into the room. "I could ask you the same thing."

"How did you find me?"

"Wasn't hard. I just tracked the GPS in your phone, which should have been a lot harder than it was considering how little you use the damn thing." Dean remarked, trying not to sound bitter about the lack of communication with his father over the last few weeks.

"You can do that?"

"Yeah Dad … modern technology is a marvel these days. I'll show you how to do it sometime."

"Why aren't you at Bobby's with Sam?"

Dean sighed and took a seat on John's bed. He was still pissed at his dad for not showing up and talking to Sam, but he had come to realize during the time he had spent with his brother helping him recover that he too needed more time to work out his own issues before the two could meet. "Sam's at school again. He's back on his feet and getting around better. He wanted to go back so,  he went back" Dean splayed out his hands, " And here I am."

"Sammy … he's doing good?" He asked, clearly still worried about his youngest son.

"Yeah."

"Walking?"

"He won't be running any marathons for a while, but yeah, he has a prosthetic leg now and if you give him time, he could probably out-run the two of us."

John looked genuinely relieved, "Good."

Dean kinda felt like slapping him, if he had only called once in a while, he would have known that already. He couldn't say why his father hadn't bothered to check in every once in a while, but that was his father's way ... he always did have a problem with only sharing information on a need to know basis.

"Soooo …" Dean began, wanting to change the subject - he didn't want to think about how much he already missed his brother. "What have you been up to out here in the desert - hunting a chupacabra?"

Clearly his father had been hunting something, he was filthy as though he had just finished digging up a grave, but Dean couldn't recall seeing any cemeteries anywhere near this little town. Then again, maybe his father hadn't been digging something up, but rather using the desert to bury something in it. It certainly wouldn't be the first time some creature's body needed to be disposed of where it couldn't be traced.

His father's face darkened and Dean could have sworn he saw a flash of guilt in his eyes, but it came and went so fast, that he couldn't be sure that he actually saw it, "I won't go into the details … but I had to get rid of a monster - a very dangerous one that got away with hurting people and putting others at risk for far too long. I was sure he would kill someone sooner or later - so I did what I had to do."

Okay … that was vague, even for his father. Maybe that's been the reason for the silence - he had been on a hunt. But why he couldn't tell Dean about it was beyond him.

"I'm not planning on staying the night here; I just want to take a shower then get on the road. I've been doing some research and it looks like there might be a soucouyant in Louisiana. You interested?" John asked.

Dean shrugged, "Why not?"

OOOOOOOO

Sam say heavily down on his bed, pulled off his leg and tossed it onto the mattress. Damn … getting around campus was doing a number on him already and he had only been back a couple of days. The sores that had just started to heal were opening up again and he knew he would need to get the socket of the leg re-fitted soon even though he had just had it adjusted a couple of weeks ago. He just wasn't sure when he would be able to find the time with classes starting in just two days.

He carefully pulled the sock from his stump, wincing as it stuck to the weeping ulcers. For now, he would just have to clean and bandage them up as best as he could, take some extra vicodin and try to ignore the pain in the leg that wasn't freakin' there anymore.

No problem.

Sam was finishing up getting the wounds on his leg bandaged up when he heard a snick at the door's lock followed by a turn of the knob. Sam quickly moved to roll his pant leg back down; he didn't want the man trying to get in to see his stump of a leg.

He was pretty sure of who was entering and when the door opened, his suspicions were confirmed. He felt a wide grin stretch across his face.

"Sam?"

"Brady … hey man."

Brady strode across the room and engulfed Sam in a tight embrace, "Dude, I wasn't sure you'd be back. Damn, it's so good to see you," Brady stepped back and appraised him, "You look good."

Sam nodded, "You too."

Brady's eyes landed on the leg Sam had tossed on the bed, but he made no mention of it. Instead he slapped Sam on the shoulder, "I'm so glad I won't have to share this room with some other douchbag."

"Yeah, looks like you're stuck with me again."

Brady's smile was infectious, "We should go out - celebrate your triumphant return, ya know? I'll even pay. How's that sound?"

Sam didn't really feel up to 'celebrating' since his leg was giving him fits, but Brady seemed so eager that he didn't want to spoil his friend's good mood, "I guess as long as you're paying -"

"Yeah, just let me get my stuff put away and we'll go to Freddy's."

Freddy's was a sports bar just off campus that was a frequent hang-out for many of the students. Though Sam and Brady were still underage, they were rarely carded there and getting a beer or two to go with dinner suddenly didn't sound like such a bad idea.

While his friend left the room to go and gather the rest of his things, Sam slipped his leg back on, took a few more pills and tried to do his best to ignore the stinging pain radiating from where the socket made contact with the remnants of his leg. By the time his roommate returned, Sam was on his feet and ready to leave.

Brady talked the whole way as he drove the two of them to the bar, chatting Sam up about what he did over the summer, how he got a job back home and saved up enough money to buy the little Hyundai hatchback he was driving and he let Sam know he was free to borrow it whenever he wasn't using it.

By the time they made it to the bar and grill, Sam's leg was throbbing , but he pushed through the pain, doing his best not to limp as they walked into the establishment.

They were seated at a booth where Sam had a direct view ahead of him of a big-screen TV. It was still early and the restaurant portion of the bar was practically empty which Sam didn't really mind, since he was tired and didn't want to have to deal with crowds of people that night.

Brady perused the menu while Sam took one more vicodin to calm the pulsing in his leg. It was while he took a swallow of water to chase the pill down that his attention was suddenly drawn to the TV. Normally when they went there was a baseball, basketball, or football game playing on the screens, but being only 5 pm on a Tuesday, there weren't any games on and instead they had the TV turned to the local news.

Sam sat transfixed. Brady had his back to the TV and was unaware of the news segment that had captured his friend and focused solely and what he was going to order.

The screen displayed the image of a house with a dark blue sedan parked in the driveway.

His mind flashed in rewind, seeing a dark blue sedan swerving all over; barreling down the street towards Brady - he saw wheels, smelled burning rubber -

His heart started to race.

"According to police witnesses, 32 year old Elliot Merkle, son of prominent Palo Alto attorney, Neil Merkle, was last seen partying at a friend's house until 2 a.m. Saturday night. The next morning, a friend came to check on the man, finding his car was parked in front of his home on Cherry Street, but there was no answer at the door. The man left and then called police to conduct a welfare check on Monday morning when Merkle failed to show for work. Police entered the residence and discovered evidence of blood, but no signs of forced entry or robbery."

The frame changed again and a picture of the missing man standing next to his car was displayed, igniting another round of memories to come plowing into Sam's head.

"Foul play is suspected in his disappearance and police noted that Merkle had an extensive arrest record for drunk driving, drug possession and dealing, and came up as a person of interest involving a hit and run accident on the Stanford University campus in May, but was never charged due to a lack of evidence. Police are asking the public to call the tip line if they have seen Merkle or know of his whereabouts …"

The screen flashed to a photo of a rotund man with dark brown hair and wide-set, hooded eyes that seemed to stare at Sam.

"And now on to weather with chief meteorologist, Chet Cummings …"

Sam shivered, frozen in place as the news prattled on.

"Sam? … " Brady tried to attract his attention, but his thoughts had drifted far away. He was there again, lying on the asphalt, bleeding -dying …

"Sam … you okay?" Brady reached across the table and tapped Sam's hand, causing the images of the blue sedan and the pain he was reliving to slowly vanish. He blinked and tried to breathe normally, but he was unable to control the shaking in his hands.

He felt his stomach bottoming out. Maybe it was just coincidence that the missing man was the same man questioned about the accident and that he just happened to disappear the same day Dean dropped him back off at school.

Then again, he had been trained since he was a little boy to not believe in coincidences.

Dean … please tell me you didn't -

"I need some air …" Sam grabbed his cane and slid out of the booth, limping out the door just in time to throw up into the bushes.

To Be Continued ...