WARNING: This story contains spoilers for basically the whole show in general until season 8, but especially for the tail end of season 7.

Author's Note: Welcome to my first ever real multichapter fiction! A couple things to note before we begin... First, this is an AU version of the beginning to season 8, but it is canon compliant through 7x23 "Survival of the Fittest". Second, this story is already ENTIRELY written (ending and all). :) Alright! Now that all of that is cleared up... Allons-y! ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

The alarm went off at seven AM, like it did every day, and Robert Johnson was feeling so comfortable in his bed that he almost hit 'snooze' on the blaring machine. It was a Sunday and he didn't have any work scheduled for the rest of the day, so he could sleep in if he really wanted. However, after a brief internal battle he decided he was well rested enough to get up right then.

That was when Robert rolled over and came face to face with a wet snout and two big brown eyes.

He barely had time to register the image in his mind before his face was being coated in sloppy dog-kisses. Robert laughed and pushed the face of his Australian Shepard away playfully.

"Gross! Do you really have to do that every morning?" He teased the animal, but the dog didn't seem to believe that Robert was upset any more than the human actually was. He just smiled up at the man, panting happily.

"Ok pal. It's time for breakfast, I know. Just let me take care of my teeth and stuff first, yeah?" Robert continued to converse with his animal companion as he climbed out of his sheets and headed for the bathroom.

He brushed his teeth and hair quickly, then made his way to the kitchen while his dog trailed behind him eagerly, tail wagging.

Robert set about the task of preparing breakfast for his furry friend, pouring dog chow pellets into a large metal bowl, then cleaning old water out of a second metal bowl before replacing it with fresher contents. Once his dog was taken care of, Robert was able to focus on his own morning needs- the most prominent of which being a desire for caffeine.

He poured coffee grounds into a fresh filter in his machine and then pressed a couple buttons, listening contentedly to the sounds of his beverage brewing and a dog chewing away at his meal. When the coffee was done he poured himself a nice steaming cup and began to sip at it slowly, taking it straight black, just like he did every morning.

In fact this was a perfect example of any old morning for Robert Johnson- calm and simple.

He sighed as he drank a little more coffee and watched his dog licking the bottom of his bowl for the few crumbs that remained. Robert reached for his smartphone on the kitchen counter to check the morning news, but there was nothing too exciting for his app to report, with the exception of an approaching lightning storm that seemed slightly out of season for the area.

Yes, this was just an average morning, but the familiarity of the routine was soothing.

As he was about to open one of the cupboards to retrieve a bowl for some cereal, something happened that interrupted his action.

The doorbell rang.

Robert paused, wondering who would be calling on him so early on a Sunday morning. Suddenly he had a strange thought that something might be wrong. Maybe someone needed his help? The flicker of concern was fleeting, but it was enough to spur him into movement.

By the time the doorbell rang a second time- this time accompanied by a few short knocks- Robert was already walking towards his front door.

"Just a second!" he called out, pausing only to signal for his dog to wait back in the kitchen, before finally opening the door.

Immediately the morning went from typical to anomalous, and Robert wasn't even sure how he knew that except for the person standing on his porch just seemed like an anomalous kind of a guy.

Before him was a man Robert didn't recognize. He was a little over six feet tall, but still a few inches shorter than Robert himself. He wore a brown and cream colored flannel shirt and battered-looking jeans, and his hair was dirty blonde- cropped relatively short, but it looked like it had grown past whatever military-like style it was used to.

However, the man's eyes were what caught Robert's attention most- deep green, and playing host to about a hundred different emotions that Robert couldn't keep track of, though he could definitely identify happiness and something close to…relief?

"Sammy," the stranger breathed out.

One Week Ago:

Being free of Purgatory was a breath of fresh air, but the feeling of contentment lasted only for a moment before Dean's primary instincts kicked in, and then he couldn't care less that he was back on Earth.

Not until he knew for sure that his brother was ok.

Dean kept his promise to Benny and helped the vampire find his body. However, he left as soon as his friend took physical form again and headed immediately for Rufus's old hunting cabin in Whitefish, Montana.

That was the last place he knew his brother had been staying.

A part of him felt bad about leaving his comrade on his own right away. After all, the guy had been nothing short of loyal and dependable all through their time together, and Dean knew adjusting to life as a pseudo-human would be tough on a vampire after so many years running free in Monster Land. But Dean didn't have time to hold Benny's hand as he got used to life in the real world once more. Not when Sam was out there and Dean didn't know where.

So as soon as Benny was alive and well once more, Dean took off.

First he used a pay-phone to try all of the numbers he knew Sam had, but none of them were working. So he proceeded to steal an old rusted Toyota Corolla and speed toward Whitefish, driving straight through the night.

The entire ride was spent hyper aware of how slowly miles could pass when covering them in a clunky compact vehicle, and he longed for his precious Impala with every turn of the tires. Yet it was a choice between the Corolla, or walking, and speed was of the essence.

At last Dean found himself in front of a cabin he hadn't seen in more time than he liked to think about. But there was a problem- something that made the sight feel unexpectedly unwelcome.

The cabin was dark and there was no Impala parked out front. In fact, there was no car at all, no tire marks in the dirt, and no sign that anyone had been there in a good long while.

Dean, still clinging to hope that tracking his brother down would be a straightforward job, decided to give it some time. Maybe Sam just went for a bite to eat, or to the store, Dean tried to convince himself, ignoring the lack of tire tracks. But the thought was hard to sell, even to his own brain that had generated it. I'll just go inside and wait for him to get back, he thought, and so Dean climbed out of the rust bucket he had been abusing and walked up to the cabin's door.

It wasn't locked and the door swung open easily on the first attempt, though the hinges squeaked loudly in protest against their movement. It was somewhat dark inside, but by the light of the rising sun Dean could make out the shapes of the couch, table, chairs, and fireplace he remembered from his last visit.

Actually, as Dean moved around the room seeking any signs that someone had been living there recently, he realized the room looked exactly as he remembered from his last visit.

There was an old mug on the dining table from when Sam had been drinking coffee the last morning they had eaten together. Two plates sat in the sink- the same plates upon which Castiel had placed the sandwiches he had prepared for them hours before they had gone after Dick Roman. There was a book sitting on the coffee table- some ancient tome of lore that Sam had been scanning right up until they walked out the door…

Dust and cobwebs coated basically everything and the fireplace was as empty as could be. Given that the fall air would chill the cabin at night, anyone living there would have needed to heat the place up. But the fireplace was devoid of anything other than a small clump of old ashes.

Dean sighed, feeling the pull of disappointment, but still he convinced himself to wait just a little longer.

OoO

Dean ended up spending the whole of the day at the cabin waiting.

First he sat on the dusty couch, doing his best not to fidget. However, he quickly remembered just how much he lacked the virtue of patience, and so he began pacing the room. It was during his pacing that he thought to look through the other rooms in the cabin. He immediately set to work exploring them all, hoping to see some evidence of Sam living there.

While closer inspection of the rest of the cabin turned up no proof of his brother having been there in the recent past, it did result in Dean locating an old stash of their things from before they went after Dick, including a spare cellphone and some of his old emergency credit cards. The cellphone was dead, but he found its charger and tucked all of the items into his pocket for use later on.

He also found some of his clothes in the dresser of the room he'd been sharing with his brother, and so Dean took advantage of the chance to change out of his filthy Purgatory attire. True, the new clothes were a bit musty, but with a good shake they were still better than the blood-and-mud coated stuff he'd been wearing for an entire year. He showered in the (very cold) water that thankfully still ran in the cabin's tiny bathroom, and put on his 'new' clothes.

Then Dean decided it would be productive to go and inspect the woodpile stacked outside and see if any of the wood would be suitable for building a fire. Sam would still see him if…when, he quickly corrected himself…when the younger man pulled up, and then neither of them would get stuck digging through a pile of logs in the dark when the sun set that evening. Plus, they'd have a nice fire to sit by while they caught up on what their past year had been like.

After Dean finished sorting the good wood from the bad, the afternoon sun was high in the sky. Yet still there was no sign of his little brother.

So he found a slightly rusted iron axe near the woodpile outside and took it upon himself to chop up the usable wood he had organized. It wasn't a necessity, but the physical act of swinging a blade down into wood, hearing a satisfying thud, and pulling back again, was a great distraction from the unsettling thoughts creeping into his mind.

After a fairly long session of wood-chopping, however, even the calming and steady beat of the axe could no longer keep him from facing the obvious:

The sun was now setting, and Sam hadn't returned to the cabin.

Dean had to accept that Sam probably hadn't come there in a very long time.

With a long-suffering sigh of defeat, Dean carried part of the supply of chopped wood back into the cabin and piled it into the empty fireplace. He located an old box of matches in one of the kitchen cupboards and set fire to the fruits of his labor.

Staring into the dancing orange flames, Dean couldn't help but feel lost.

He needed to find Sam, and fast, because he just wasn't sure he could handle knowing he had fought so damn hard to reach his brother, and now was stopped from seeing him just because of something as dumb as not knowing the guy's location.

The sun was rapidly sinking beneath the trees outside, and soon the glow from the fire was the only source of light in the cabin. Dean sat down again on the old sofa and swept his gaze around the room.

If Sam wasn't there, that just meant he was somewhere else. And I'm going to find him, Dean assured himself, feeling a familiar spark of determination.

He made himself a promise that first thing the next day he would head into town and get a laptop, food, and whatever other supplies he might need. This cabin would become his base-camp and he would stay there searching every corner of the States- hell, the globe even- until he had a lead on his brother's whereabouts.

He hadn't crawled out of a wasteland of monsters for nothing.

OoO

It took longer than Dean would have liked to figure out where Sam was holed up, but after about six days of searching, Dean found records of a speeding ticket that could be traced to his own Impala. From there he was able to obtain an address the car was associated with at the date the ticket was issued, which was only one month prior.

609 E 3rd St, Apartment 1A, Lexington, NE 68850

Dean read the address, simultaneously grateful that Sam had been ticketed for speeding and worried that Sam could have damaged Baby with his reckless driving. After that it was a simple matter of packing his things into the rusty Toyota and heading out. Not even an hour after Dean found the lead, the hunter was on the road toward the city of Lexington, Nebraska, which was a mere state and a half away from Rufus's cabin in Whitefish.

Dean drove above speed limit the entire trip, watching the miles fly by as he followed the 93 to the 12, to the big I-90, then took the 83 to the I-80, and finally arrived in Lexington. After driving for too many hours straight, he was surprisingly alert. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest as he covered the last stretch of asphalt between himself and, hopefully, his brother.

His hope was confirmed as fact when he pulled into the apartment complex he had traced the ticket to and saw the beautiful body of his beloved Impala sitting in the paved lot beside a clump of apartments.

Dean grinned then, having missed the automobile almost as much as he had his sibling. He quickly parked the Camry he was driving, climbed out, and jogged over to the black car. (He had ditched the Corolla from before and traded to a Toyota Camry. And yeah, after so many weeks of Toyota usage, Dean was absolutely sure that he hated Toyotas.)

"Hey there beautiful! Aw, did ya miss me Baby?" he asked the car, running a hand over the smooth metal and smiling appreciatively at how well his brother had maintained her. She looked clean and sleek as ever and there was not a scratch on her.

After a few more moments spent admiring his precious vehicle, Dean finally turned his attention to the apartment behind her. He took a deep breath, feeling his nerves bubbling again. How would Sam react to seeing him after so much time?

He hoped his brother would be happy that he'd made it out of Purgatory, but then again, maybe Sam would be disappointed it took him so long… Would Sam be angry that Dean had left him on his own that whole year to cope with the Leviathan clean-up?

Dean took a breath and began walking forward, determined to face his worries head on. Besides, deep down he knew that seeing his brother angry still meant seeing his brother, and Dean's desire for that to occur outweighed his concerns completely.

The hunter walked up the two steps to the small porch in front of apartment 1A and rang the doorbell. He paused a moment, and when he heard nothing, the thought struck to him that it was a Sunday and pretty early in the morning (he had been driving all night, again) so maybe Sam was still asleep. It would be rude to wake him up then, right?

But then Dean figured that reunions with year-lost brothers justified early wake-up calls, so he tried the doorbell again, this time adding a couple knocks for good measure. In response, a muffled voice called out from behind the door, "Just a second!"

Dean felt his heart rate speed up again, because he knew that muffled voice anywhere. It was…

"Sammy," Dean breathed out in relief as the door finally opened and he saw his over-sized younger sibling, alive and well.

Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! By this point I bet you're wondering, "What's up with Sam?" Well, you'll just have to stay tuned to find out! ;) I will be updating this every Tuesday and Friday, which means the next chapter will be out this Friday. Also, feedback is infinitely better than gold, so please don't be shy! :)