Foreword: First thing I want to say I am so sorry it took so long to get this out. I had severe writer's block for this section, I literally had this play out five different ways before I settled on this one. And I will never be able to express how much that this is probably the worst chapter I've written for anything ever. That's saying something. Also, since I'm apparently internet-inept, it took me two weeks to figure out where to find the alert and favorites thing is, so HOLY CRAP thank you guys so much for the alerts and favorites! I can't express how much that means to me, thank you!

Chapter 6

Pain blood so much blood guilt scream your fault your fault useless fuck give up! Endless stop stop it not them, not him, please don't!

Endless blue, always searching, always; what, what do you-

You were family.

"I have no family."

Pushed against the wall; he swallowed hard and watch the other's pleading eyes. His heart was pounding, he couldn't look away. He wanted, he needed-

"You're a good man Dean, why-"

No.

"I can show you."

I'm not, I never was.

"Please."

I can't.

"Wait!"

Intense blue eyes bore into him, no long reassuring but accusing and cold.

It's a wonder Dean, how this is the memory you choose to dream about. Does it give you comfort?

Warm heat want fuck wrong no, why need you come back!

"Dean-"

"Get away from me!"

You never did care what I had to think did you? Now you will.

Wait, I never meant-

Excuses Dean, they're unbecoming of you. It's far too late.

You never did understand why I did it all for you.

Ungrateful, selfish, ignorant! Mortal, human, lesser.

"All I ever wanted-!"

Hate you.

Dean awoke with such a start he almost fell out of the narrow bed. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat and he had to take a few deep breaths to remember how to breathe normally again. When his senses matched up with reality once more Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes; not again. Would it kill him to have one night of decent sleep?

Dean groaned when he realized the sun was streaming in unforgivingly through the slanted blinds and his head nearly split in two. He buried his head in the old pillow to drown out the awful creation that was light. Hangover. Fun. He reached blindly for the flask he knew was on the bed side table, braving the sun to swallow down the welcome, comforting burn.

He strung together what he could from last night, not surprised by how little that was. Coherency had dissipated with each drink that passed his lips, and it was slow coming back. He did recall his apparent lapse of sanity and reluctantly remembered Janie and that disaster. Coming home was blurry though, but he assumed that was because he was nearly sleep-walking by the time he hit the bed. Dean realized apathetically that he was still in his clothes from last night, not even bothering removing his shoes before he was out like a light. Eh, not the first time it happened.

He had to get up now though, they needed to…well, do something. They had two days left. Shit.

Dean pushed everything to the back of his mind and made himself stand, checking on Sam before doing anything else. No change in his brother, and it least he could be vaguely thankful Sam was still okay. After brushing Sam's hair back -and Dean would kill anyone who caught him doing that or even suggested he did it- he went into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

He dressed relatively quickly and picked up his phone to call Bobby, hesitating at the last minute. He stared at the screen for a long time, recalling everything they said to each other last night, and finally got the balls to call the man. They had bigger things on their plate than an argument. He was surprised went it went to voicemail. Dean almost shut the phone, but forced himself to stay on and speak when the automated voice signaled him.

"Hey uh Bobby, it's me," Dean said, and sighed, "Look, we'll have time later to dissect this personal shit, but you and I both know we got no time right now. You were… well, you were right, but I swear I'm in this. We're gonna get this done. Call me."

Dean shut the phone and sighed again, then checked the time. It was almost noon. Damn, he slept late. Bobby probably decided not to wait up for him and was out. Dean debated whether he should wait for Bobby to get back, or to say screw it and go out on his own. Dean's empty stomach decided for him. After last night Dean could go for a burger. He gave a quick glance at Sam, and frowned; as much as he hated leaving him, he doubted something was going to happen in the hour he was out. Grabbing his jacket Dean exited the motel, never noticing the faint stream of light entering the room above his head when he opened the door.

The motel was more or less within walking distance of everything major in the town, including an apparently popular diner. Dean took a seat at a barstool and scanned the room. Despite being there a few days Dean had mostly stayed inside. He hadn't gotten a chance to see the townspeople yet, so this was his first opportunity see what they daylight people were like.

It was typically small town; many knew each other by first name and carried on small conversations, and nothing was out of the ordinary that he could tell. It looked like whatever planted them here had picked a rather sleepy town.

When the waitress approached him Dean gave her a bright, flirty smile and said his order, making a show to admire her assets. She had frizzy red hair, but thick and fell in nice waves over her small shoulders. He grinned when she flushed almost as bright as her hair and she bit her lip on a smile before she scurried away. Dean felt proud; even if he couldn't get it up he still got it.

Dean's momentary victory faded when he heard the hushed voices. From some reason, Dean's ears never picked up on loud conversations; while most people would zero in on the loudest voice, Dean immediately latched on to the quietest. He blamed it on hunter instincts. He couldn't even help it anymore, and in seconds Dean was suddenly listening in on a private conversation between three women.

"Poor Karen, she's still choking up!"

"What, do you mean…?"

"No, no nothing like that. But, you know…still gone."

"He was such a good kid."

"But you heard about the Greenfield girl, right?"

"Oh yeah, I can't believe it!"

"No, what happened?"

"Just vanished!"

Dean's brow creased and he inclined his head slightly to listen better, fiddling with his soda distractedly. Well it looked like Dean's weird magnet was working again. Dean more or less beat down what his first instinctive thought was and made himself muse that's too bad, those kids going missing. I hope they turn up alright.

Sometimes it was just creepy assholes taking kids. Sometimes it wasn't some monster.

Aw, screw it, now he was curious.

When the waitress came back with his food Dean flashed another winning smile and asked her for a copy of the newspaper. He paid for it and didn't have to go far. On the side of the front page was an article stating "Local Girl Still Missing! Amber's Parents Devastated"

According to the article, seventeen-year-old Amber Greenfield was the third to go missing in the past six weeks. Three weeks ago a boy named Jacob Fligel, nineteen, was taken and there was no sign of him since. However, 21 year old Janette went missing six weeks ago but was found two weeks later, with no memory of what had occurred. Claimed to have had an "out-of-this-world" experience.

Dean stared at the newspaper with as much detachment as he could. Yep, too bad. He hoped the police could find those kids. Dean's hands tightened on the newspaper and he set his jaw. This wasn't some supernatural bullshit. These kids were going missing and the Janette girl was probably shaken up. It. Was. Nothing.

Son of a bitch, Dean thought dryly, closing his eyes and holding back a groan of annoyance. He didn't have time. His instincts, however, were not getting the memo and were telling him something else, that this was important.

Dean looked back down at the newspaper, then pointedly got up and threw it away. For the first time in his life, Dean was going to ignore a case.

Dean pulled out his wallet to pay his bill when he heard hushed voices again.

"Hey guys, something's up on the news!"

Someone from the other side of the room then called, "Hey Mill, turn up the tube would ya?"

A waitress reached up and turned up the volume, and the diner fell silent as the impromptu news story played.

"Here in Murray, Utah, a strange accident has decimated the local park. A large crater now sits where a green park used to be. Authorities are calling it a minor gas explosion, but locals are not so sure," a reporter stated on the television.

Dean's gaze was intent on the screen just as the locals, but awhile they looked enraptured Dean's eyes had widened in shock. He recognized the place the camera was filming. He recognized the trees, and the swing-set and sandbox in the distance. And Dean would have seen the park bench he had sat on just last night, if it wasn't for the giant hole carved deep into the ground where it once stood.

"The police are stating that the incident had to have occurred just after sunset, but no later than ten o'clock last night. And now the public is asking: Was it a meteor crash? A terroristic attack? More on this story, later."

Dean gaped numbly at the screen. As the news story faded out the murmur of the diner grew, more and more talking about just what that crash could have been.

"-Ain't no gas break."

"Thank god no one was hurt!"

"You think it was really- -meteor?"

"They say how big it was?"

"Shit, I heard about places where this happened…"

"The size of a car! No, a house!"

"-The other people, ya know?"

"Dude, you're nuts!"

"No witnesses?"

"-Shut the whole block down."

"I'm just sayin' better to be paranoid-...your brains scrambled."

"Police ain't letting anyone in or out."

"Those damn…thinking they can step on our land again!"

"Isn't that a little suspicious?"

Dean's headache was coming back. His heart was pounding like a skittish colt while he tried to block out the overwhelming flow of conversations. He threw down a few bills and left as quickly as he could. He needed to talk to Bobby, now. This was way too much at once, he needed a calmer head. He tried dialing him again, and again, but still no answer. That…did not bode well for him. Bobby never went this long without answering his phone, regardless of situation. Dean's gut was telling him something awful that he really didn't want to believe.

"Pick up your damn phone, Bobby!" Dean snapped to himself before darting back to the motel room.

He pounded on the older hunter's door the moment he reached the motel, shouting his name. Seriously, Bobby should be back by now, his car was here so if he had walked anywhere he wouldn't have gone far without a message or leave his damn phone on.

Dean forced himself to remain calm but panic was creeping its way up his spine now. He pulled out his copy of Bobby's key and entered the room, hoping to find the old hunter asleep on the bed or some sign he was just out.

The room looked pristine. The books were stacked orderly and the bed was made. Nothing was out of place. Bobby was nowhere.

With a mantra of shitshitshitshitshit playing through Dean's head he searched the room top to bottom for where Bobby might have gone. Because Bobby was still here, he was just out he wasn't gone he couldn't be gone not now.

Dean found a few of his knives missing as well as his guns, but only the weapons made of silver. He found nothing else out of place, nothing to signal where Bobby might have gone. If it wasn't for the duffel bag -unopened and untouched- and the books it wouldn't even look like Bobby had ever been in here.

Dean kept looking for signs, but what he did find made dread settle sickly in his stomach. The salt lines were destroyed. Well, not destroyed, but Dean could not figure out why there two neat salt piles on the windowsill and two pillars next to the door, when most creatures would kick it away. Was this thing mocking them? Whatever the hell this thing was he didn't know, because they hadn't taken the time to research the damn town before deciding to set up base here.

Dean couldn't think enough to care, because Bobby was gone. Bobby was missing, probably like those kids and fuck fuck fuck why hadn't they looked into the town first? If he had paid attention he could have helped he could have stopped this, if they had read up on the town they never go anywhere without taking precautions why wouldn't they do this now fuck now Bobby was gone and it's his fault it's always his damn fault-

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, to who or what he didn't know, he didn't care. Dean resisted the urge to scream and didn't realize he had lashed out until he heard the crash of the lamp shattering on the worn carpet floor. He fumed at the broken fixture and didn't even fucking care about the broken glass and kicked the nightstand over, watching several books and a knife go flying.

Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, barely resisting the urge to release his anger in the form of punching the wall until he couldn't feel his knuckles anymore. He forced himself to breathe; this wasn't helping, he needed to calm down, he needed to- do what, you useless piece of shit, your brother is gone, Bobby is gone, Cas is out for your blood, what can you possibly do now? This couldn't get worse but somehow, you could probably figure it out! You're alone, asshole, you'll always end up alone this is what you fucking deserve.

And just like that Dean felt the tooth-pick foundation he had built up when Sam came back from hell, fall out from under him like quicksand.

Dean slumped to the floor, breathing hard and just…staring. So much was whirling through his head he wasn't sure which thought to focus on. Bobby-gone-Cas-darkside-Sammy-gone-find-Bobby-help-Cas-help-Cas-help-Sammy-SAMMY. And there it was. Don't leave Sammy alone. That was the only thought that mattered.

Dean walked hollowly back to their room sat down heavily on the bed, watching over Sam in his peaceful sleep. A forced, fake peace. Dean smirked bitterly and shut his eyes, shaking his head. All he could do now was watch over Sam, and even then he knew it was nothing. He couldn't go into Sam's head and take away those memories. He couldn't wake Sam up, and he couldn't ask for Cas to help him anymore. He couldn't even keep his brother in fake bliss, because in less than two days Cas was bringing the walls down unless they gave in. He couldn't save Sam, he could never save Sam. And there was still so much more he needed to do.

"What am I supposed to do?" Dean said weakly, the already bitter smile fading from his lips. He needed to find Bobby, he couldn't do this alone. He couldn't stop Cas by himself. Dean scoffed and swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat. Stopping Cas, like he was just another damn monster; it tasted strange in Dean's mouth when he had to say it. He knew there was no other option though. But as many times as he'd yelled at himself over it, that Cas wasn't Cas anymore and that Dean had to stop him, he just.. .

"I can't do it, Sammy," Dean said thickly, the realization heavy and sounding foreign to his ears.

The only thing keeping him going was Sam and Bobby, and him. He thought it was enough for a while, that maybe he could handle living with that. He thought he had endured worse. But in a span of less than a week it was ripped out from under him and Dean knew there was nothing more to fall back on, and he wasn't getting help with this. He couldn't get help with this, it was too much. It was finally too much.

"I can't do it."

A/n: Everything has to get worse before it gets better, right? Feedback would be much appreciated, especially since I churned this out while half asleep and exhausted from work. Please yell at me if you see errors or discrepancies.