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Dean slowed down his car and desperately looked out the window. His kid brother had run away and their father blamed him.
It wasn’t his fault. Sam and dad had been on outs ever since he’d learned what dad did for a living – hunt things that go bump in the night. And every time dad returned from his weeklong hunting trip, he and dad argued about it. This time too they had fought and Sam had, as always, threatened to run away if he didn’t stop it. And finally tired of his constant tantrums and empty threats, dad had yelled, “You don’t have the balls, boy!” Dad had left that very night, and Dean had realized Sam was missing the next morning. That was four days ago.
Dad was gonna come back tomorrow and if he didn’t find Sam before that, dad would kill him.
But that wasn’t all he was worried about. The world was not safe place for a 13-year old kid, out by himself. Sure, Sammy was smart… and good at hustling… and trained in basic martial arts, but he still was no match for a grown-up with a knife or a gun. And four days is a really long time.
What if… what if Sammy was hurt? Or dead? Or worse!
The thought filled Dean with sudden dread. He stopped the car by the side of the road and stumbled out. He collapsed onto the grassy patch, joined his hands below his chin and uttered one word, “Cas”.
That’s all he said. “Cas… Please… Cas…” He was sobbing softly, pleadingly… only two words on his lips…”Cas… please…” He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Cas knew. Cas always knew.