Author's Note: This story is inspired by "Not Meant to Be" by majesticduxk on AO3; this is my version of her story. The story title and chapter titles are from Don Henley's "The Heart of the Matter."

Chapter 1: I'm Learning to Live Without You Now

I stared into the beer I'd just ordered. I'd been in this bar for a few hours now, but this was only my third drink of the evening. The bartender couldn't complain though, given how much the yuppies I'd fleeced earlier at darts had then spent drowning their humiliation.

I hadn't been back to the Bunker in several days. Though my brother had been doing his best to comply with my demand that we keep our relationship strictly professional, it was hard to completely avoid all the pathetic glances, feeble excuses, and lame attempts at ingratiation even in a building that large. As if some fumbled words and a couple well-made meals would make up for what he'd done to me! And after the last hunt, where I'd nearly gotten seriously injured after the idiot almost dropped his gun, I wasn't sure about the value of even maintaining a working partnership. I definitely needed some time away.

The beta I'd been idly flirting with for most of the past hour placed a hand over mine. "Would you like to come back to my place, alpha?" he asked.

I looked down at our hands in surprise. I didn't have any significant intent when I first started conversing with the other man after he'd sat on the stool next to me, though he made his interest know fairly early on. It had been several weeks since I'd had any kind of meaningful sexual relief. But despite how upset I still was with him, was I really willing to cheat on my mate?

Dean had many faults, but infidelity was never one of them. I may have teased him about being a man-whore when we were younger, but his eyes hadn't strayed once after we mated. He didn't even flirt anymore except when getting information during a case or while hustling pool, and even then he was contrite afterward. Surely I couldn't behave worse than him?

And while the beta beside me was quite pretty, he couldn't compare to my omega's beauty. More importantly, this man didn't know me, not like my brother did—he didn't have the shared history or the understanding of who and what I was. Was momentary pleasure with an attractive stranger worth the potentially irrevocable damage to the already shaky bond with my mate?

I sighed, recognizing that I wasn't going to resolve any of the problems between Dean and myself by hiding here. I slid my hand free and pushed the drink away. I told my current companion, "I'm terribly sorry if I gave out the wrong impression, man. But I've got to get back home to my mate. I'll pay for your drinks to make up for wasting your time."

"Mated? But you're not wearing a ring, and you don't smell—" He suddenly leaned back with a sneer. "Fuck! Don't tell me you're one of those losers that use scent-blockers to try to get a quickie on the side? That's just disgusting!"

I stood and dropped a twenty on the counter, not sure what he was babbling about and not caring either. I left the bar and got on the vintage Indian Chief I'd borrowed from the Bunker's garage. I first stopped at the motel I'd been staying at to grab my things and then pointed the motorcycle towards Lebanon.

I pulled into the underground garage a couple of hours later and parked in one of the motorcycle bays. The Impala was in its usual place in the center of the garage. I noticed a couple large garbage bags near the outer door, which was a bit odd—I'd taken the trash out when I'd left, and I hadn't been gone long enough for one man to generate that much waste. I resolved to find out if Dean had tried cleaning out one of the many storage rooms without asking me.

The kitchen was dark as I passed by. The library was also quiet and surprisingly clean. I hadn't spent much time in this room lately because my brother had been researching cases almost obsessively in his spare time. But his usual mess was gone—all the books and files back on the shelves, pencils and notepads put away, and not a speck of trash or dust to be seen. The only thing out on the tables was a stack of manila folders. I opened the top folder and found information for what appeared to be a case involving harpies near Marble Rock, Iowa. Something else to ask him about, apparently.

I stopped by my room—or more accurately, the room I'd been using since I'd stopped sharing a bed with Dean—to deposit my bag before looking for the omega. I noticed something on my pillow and frowned, pissed that he'd disturbed my privacy despite orders to the contrary. An uneasy feeling started to worm its way through my chest, however, as I approached the bed and made out a piece of paper with simply, "I'M SORRY SAMMY" printed on it.

Lying on top of the note were the keys to the Impala and a grooved silver ring. My apprehension spiked at the sight of the ring, which used to be our mother's. My brother always wore it ever since Dad gave it to him as a teen—first on his right hand, and then later on his left ring finger after we mated. We'd had a matching ring made for me at the time, which I'd been keeping in my wallet recently. And Dean never left the Impala's keys behind. He was obsessed with that car to the point that I used to joke it was the "other woman" in our relationship, and he only let me drive it when he was seriously injured, dead tired, or trying to make me feel better.

I dropped my bag and ran to Dean's—formerly our—room. I threw open the door, and my disquiet turned into fear. The room was bare, the closet, dresser, and other furniture empty of everything not original to the room. Two cardboard boxes rested on the foot of the memory foam mattress.

The first box held all of my brother's weapons, which were normally displayed on the walls and the shelf behind the bed. Even his favorite engraved Colt M1911 and the Purgatory axe were there. The only weapon I could tell was missing from the box was the silver-plated folding knife he usually kept in his pocket.

The second box contained a mix of items. There were books, both lore books and the few novels he'd picked up since we moved into the Bunker, and of course Dad's journal. There was his iPod, headphones, and the handful of CDs and records he owned that I actually liked. There was a folder full of pictures—of Mom and Dad and our family before the fire, of myself at various ages, of me with Bobby, Kevin, and other lost loved ones. There were even some unopened toiletries from the medicine cabinet. His laptop and tablet were sitting next to the box on top of two neatly folded duffle bags.

Completely missing were any of Dean's personal effects—his clothing, the rest of his music, his collection of dirty magazines, or any pictures of him. His duffles were here on the bed, so he couldn't have taken his belongings somewhere else. I had a sudden sinking suspicion that I knew what the contents of those garbage bags in the garage were now. With a pang, I understood that he'd neatly packed up anything he thought I could use and thrown out everything he felt was only of value to himself.

I bolted back to the library to see if there was a clue to my mate's whereabouts in the files he'd left on the table. There were over a dozen folders in the pile, each full of information on a different potential case. There were newspaper articles, printed photos, township and county records, and sheets of detailed notes in each folder. Some of the case documentation was less complete than the others, but this still represented hours of meticulous research. However, none of this helped me find him now, since he wouldn't have gone to deal with a case by himself and leave his weapons and gear behind.

I began to panic as I realized that I had no idea where my mate was. Nor what he was doing, other than it had to be something drastic. It could take hours to search the entire Bunker, time which I didn't have to waste. I had a strong hunch anyways that he wasn't anywhere nearby, but there was no way to be sure. And I couldn't sense him anymore—I'd been blocking our bond for weeks, and now it was like it wasn't even there.

In desperation, I called out, "Cas? Cas? It's me, Sam. I—I can't find Dean, and I'm afraid something's happened to him!"

After a moment, I heard a faint rustle and then a resonant voice behind me. "Hello, Sam. What is the matter?"

I spun around. "Thank God you're here, man! Dean's gone. He packed up or disposed of all his stuff and then left! I—I've been away for a few days, so I don't know how long ago he went. The Impala's still here and none of the other vehicles are missing from the garage, so I assume he stole a car nearby or hitched a ride. Please tell me you can find him! I've got a bad feeling that he's in trouble!"

The angel's bright blue eyes unfocused. A few seconds later, he went pale and shuddered. "You were right to be concerned. Dean is still alive but gravely hurt. He currently appears to be in Sioux Falls. I must go to him immediately."

I caught Cas' arm as he started to turn away. "Wait a second! You're taking me with you, right?"

He looked at me impassively. "Why would I do that?"

"What do you mean, why? He's my mate, my omega! If he's hurt, I need to take care of him!"

His gaze turned cold. "If how you have been 'taking care of' Dean recently is how you treat someone you supposedly love, I would not want to see how you behave towards someone you actually hate."

"What're you talking about? Dean's been fine until now," I said defensively. "Yeah, he's been mopey and upset because I'm mad at him, but—"

"I know you are an intelligent man, so it cannot be stupidity causing you to say that," Castiel interrupted. "Are you truly so self-absorbed that you have not observed what your actions has been doing to your brother? I may not know that much about human behavior, but even I can tell that he is not 'fine.'" Sarcastic air-quotes accompanied the last word.

"Would you like to know what I have seen?" He stepped in closer, his eyes blazing. "I have been watching Dean since before his conception, long before we were allowed to intervene in mortal affairs. So I know, better than anyone else, that his entire life has revolved around you.

"He gave up his childhood and any chance for a better future so that you would have both. He damned himself to decades of the worst suffering imaginable to save your life. He sacrificed his opportunity for happiness and a family to join you when you returned from the Cage. He spent a year constantly fighting through endless bloodthirsty hordes to get back to you. He cast aside a man he loved like a brother to appease your jealousy and later killed him to once again save your life.

"And how have you repaid his devotion? You left him repeatedly, because you cared more for normalcy or revenge than him. You deceived him and chose a demon over him, because in your arrogance you believed you knew better than even the Host of Heaven. You gave up on him when he disappeared and replaced him with a dog and a woman you barely knew. Yet he always forgave you and took you back, because his heart is too great to do otherwise.

"And this act that has you so self-righteously angry? That was all for you as well. Dean risked his own life in asking for help, not knowing if the angel who answered his plea would want revenge for the failure to close Hell or for my actions. He put your well-being above mine when I needed assistance, because Gadreel feared being found out. Yes, hiding the truth from you was wrong. But he was an omega whose alpha was dying, so how clearly do you expect he was thinking? And he should not be held to blame for Gadreel's actions—he believed Gadreel was someone else who was trustworthy, someone I had vouched for. And I think Gadreel himself had no ill intent until he in turn was manipulated by Metatron.

"Dean definitely does not deserve the suffering and neglect you have put him through. You are fully aware that an omega needs his alpha, needs the contact and affection, needs the bond. Yet you have been so wrapped up in your own petulant emotions that you have willfully ignored the harm you are doing to him.

"I admit I have been so busy dealing with the problems of my brethren that I have not paid enough attention to the needs of my friend. But that ends now. If you will not give Dean the care he requires, I will. I will take him to someplace safe, someplace away from you. I cannot offer him a sexual relationship, but I can provide the love of a parent and a brother than he deserves."

I stood stupefied through the seraph's tirade, but the mention of losing my mate, even to Cas, spurred me into action. "Dean is mine! I'm his brother! You're taking him only over my dead body!" I snarled, letting my canines extend and my eyes flare red.

"Do you think your posturing means anything to me? I am an Angel of the Lord! I was a warrior when your ancestors were still swimming in tidal pools!" Castiel roared, his eyes glowing and his wings flaring out. "If you truly are Dean's family, then act like it! Put him first for once in your sorry life!"

I suppressed the urge to step back or bare my throat. I did swallow before responding. "Okay, Cas, you're right. Dean does need to come first. So let's both go to him now. We can argue over who'll take care of him after he's safe."

Castiel stared at me and then nodded. He put a hand on my shoulder, and with another rustle we were gone.