Forget Me Knot

Set somewhere between "Bad Boys" (season 9) and "After School Special" (season 4). Sam is 13, Dean is 17

This story is based on the premise that John knew that demons wanted Sam ever since Sam was a baby, and keeping Sam away from the demons was John's primary motivation for hunting and moving as often as he did. This is NOT an AU.

1: Missing

Pella, IA

Something's missing. The thought hit as soon as Dean opened his eyes, and he immediately closed them again. But banishing sight did not help banish the thought. With a sigh, Dean leaned over to look at the clock. 7:00 am. His alarm wouldn't sound for twenty more minutes.

Dean used to set it earlier. He had needed the extra time. Had to get his shower done to leave time for… Dean's thoughts trailed off, brought up short by a void he couldn't explain. He didn't know why he had felt the need to make sure there was time for another person to shower. Before, when Dad still hunted, he had stayed out late, slept in late, and showered when Dean was away at school.

It was just another little piece of Dean's memory that felt scattered, full of blanks. All of his memories of the time Before were like that. Before Dad stopped hunting. Back when things had been different.

Their entire routine had changed now, but Dean's muscle memory had yet to catch up. He still did things on reflex that only a hunter would do. Spill salt across the window sills. Keep a dream catcher above his bed. Get up early and ready to cram research and grave digging into a day already filled with school and…

There is was again. The something more that Dean was supposed to do. He shook his head, but couldn't toss the thought away. There was something he needed to take care of. Only they didn't hunt anymore. He didn't have to read the newspaper to find people to save anymore.

That was it. That had to be it. Yet even as one part of Dean's mind supplied an explanation, another part threw it out. Dissatisfied. Angry. Anxious that Dean wasn't doing his job. The one job he had. It wasn't hunting. Saving people, killing things, that had been Dad's job.

But Dad had quit. John Winchester had woken up one day and decided that things would change.

Revenge won't bring your mother back. It's time you had the life she would have wanted for you.

A few simple words, and suddenly their lives had changed. Dad found a new town, found a new job, and signed a lease on an apartment. They weren't renting month to month, they had signed for a full year. John and Dean Winchester were civilians again. Civilians who still went to the shooting range every weekend. Civilians who could still dig a grave faster than the cemetery grounds keeper.

Dad said things were better this way. They had lived in the same house for three whole months now. Dean had gone to the same school that whole time. He went to school on time every day. He did his homework. He had a curfew. He didn't have to help hunt. He didn't have to worry about saving other people. He didn't get dumped at a different babysitter every other month, or have to wait for weeks for Dad to come back.

Dean lingered a whole five minutes extra in the shower before deciding to use the rest of his morning to make a nice breakfast. Dad shuffled into the room to gather up his morning coffee and looked at the giant pile of eggs and hash in the skillet with a bleary eye.

"Hungry this morning? That's an awful lot of food, son."

He said it almost every day, because whenever Dean cooked, he made too much. As if he was expecting to feed a third hungry stomach. Dean just shrugged and doled out eggs and potatoes and quietly slipped the third, unneeded plate back into the cabinet.

He didn't know why he had gotten it out in the first place. They only needed two plates. It was just him and Dad.

o0o

John Winchester has settled down. That was the word on the rumor mill. They didn't see each other often, but somehow, hunters always kept up with each other. They knew who was injured, who had passed, and who had retired.

I'll believe it when I see it, was all Bobby had to say. John Winchester would never retire, but Bobby was one of the few who knew why. He would never forget the night John had told him that a demon had tried to kidnap his child. As long as John thought demons were after Sam, he would never stop.

Someone must be running a nice betting pool, seeing how many people he could get to fall for that line. John Winchester, quit hunting?

When pigs fly.

Although Bobby had to admit that he hadn't heard about a John Winchester kill in several months. Hunters liked to trade stories, and it hadn't taken long for the ex-marine to become a mini-legend. There wasn't a monster John Winchester feared. Black dogs, wendigos, shifters. John took down anything he could find. He had become the person to call when you had a tough job.

Bobby had a line on a monster out in Oregon, nowhere near John's current stomping grounds. But moving had never troubled the other hunter before. The further he could travel, the less likely the demons could find Sam again. Or so he hoped.

John answered on the first ring.

"Hi, John. Changed your number again?"

"Bobby! Caleb was supposed to tell you."

"Yeah, he did." Bobby agreed. Hunters changed phone numbers as often as they changed their socks. There was a phone tree to keep everyone up to date. "Look, I got a hunt for you. There's something nasty up in the hills near Portland."

"Oregon?" He could hear the 'no' in John's tone already. "Sorry, Bobby. That's too far. Dean's in school right now, and he'd have to take a whole week off to get out there and back."

Bobby stood with the phone pressed to his ear, staring at his kitchen for a whole minute. The sky out the window as blue. The old tile flood was scuffed and coated in grime. Yes, the world was still there, still just the same has he had left it, and there were no signs of flying pigs.

Huh.

"You're saying no to a hunt to keep your boys in school?" Bobby had to say it out loud, just to make sure.

"It's how I do things now, Bobby."

"What about all the people this monster is killing?"

"Who else can you put on it?"

"I don't know anyone else who can handle something this nasty." It hadn't taken long for John to win a reputation as the hunter who could take down anything. "I mean, I guess I can call a few others." After all, hadn't he told John over and over to settle down and keep his boys in one school?

"I suppose I can leave Dean on his own for a few days. He's sure to throw a kegger, though."

"You and I both know Dean is not letting his friends get drunk with Sam in the house." Without Sam, there were many, many more things Dean would have gotten up to over the years. Taking care of the younger boy had always been the focus of Dean's life. Without Sam, Bobby didn't know who Dean would be.

"He's already tried twice." John's tone was amused. Bobby frowned. Something was wrong here, he just couldn't put his finger on what.

"So the rumors are true? You've settled down?"

"I have. I don't hunt anymore unless there is something in my territory."

Bobby took off his ball cap and scratched his head. "Why? I mean I'm not complaining Just wondering. What made you decide to stop? Did you get the demon that was after Sam?"

If John had managed to track down that demon, he would have called to boast to everyone. If John had found a way to kill a demon, he should have shared that information far and wide. But Bobby had heard nothing of the sort. Besides, he was still collecting data on demon sightings for John. Data that John hadn't asked to see in months.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bobby. Who is Sam?"

o0o

Edina, MO

The old house should have been condemned years ago. The only reason it hadn't been knocked down was that no one could decide who should pay for the work. It stood in the center of town, the fence overgrown with bushes, the windows draped in ivy. No one bothered looking in anymore, it was too much effort.

No one noticed the boy who slipped through the small gap that used to be an entrance gate. No one would have cared it they had. No one here knew Sam Winchester, and no one was looking for him.

No one at all.

Sam wiped a tear from his cheek and looked up at the old house. It would do. He had squatted before, when Dad didn't have cash for a motel or couldn't find one he liked. The floor was sagging, but not rotted out yet. The roof was leaky, but there were no big holes. It would shelter him from the worst if a storm passed through, and on the cusp of October, storms were still a likely possibility.

A growl sounded from his stomach, angry and insistent. Sam set a blue box out on the counter. Macaroni and cheese. His favorite meal. Well, not really. More like the only meal. The only meal Dean could afford when Dad was running late. The only meal they ate day after day for a week at a time. Dean tried his best to spice it up. He added all sorts of things to make it interesting.

Still, Sam had learned to hate macaroni and cheese. They had it too often, and it only reminded him of what they didn't have. Enough money for real food. A parent who knew how to cook. A real kitchen that could do more that boil a pot of water.

He had never thought he would enjoy the taste of it again, but today, Sam wanted nothing more. He found a match and tried the stove. A small blue flame ignited in the burner. Whoever owned this place hadn't bothered to shut down the power bill yet.

Good. Sam filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove, watching until little bubbles formed on the surface. He squinted at the directions in the dim light. Whoever forgot to shut off the gas hadn't forgot to shut off the electricity. Boil. Pour. Wait. Mix. It sounded easy.

Sam dumped the contents of the box into the pot. Water sloshed out, hissing as it landed on the hot stovetop. Sam jumped back, then realized he'd forgotten to remove the cheese packet and went fishing for it. He set the soggy thing on the counter and sucked on his burnt fingers. But the noodles were boiling at least. Sam hummed a song to mark time, then another until ten minutes had passed and he pulled the pot off the stove.

Sam held the hot pot over the sink and frowned. He hadn't thought this through. That seemed to be true of everything he tried lately. There was no colander, and somehow he had to separate the hot water from the hot noodles without touching either. Sam held the edge of the pot to the sink wall and tried to drain the water that way, but half the noodles spilled out and a puddle of water still remained in the bottom of the pot.

His stomach growled again. Well, he had lost half of the noodles, but he only ever ate half of the box, right? There should be enough. Sam dumped the sauce packet over the pasta and stirred it all together with the plastic fork he had stolen from the gas station where he bought the boxed meal. The result was a lumpy, sticky mess that didn't taste anything like the macaroni and cheese Dean made.

He only ate half the contents of the pot before Sam pushed it away. He curled up on the floor, elbows on his knees, face buried in his arms.

I want my brother! The thought ached, but the next one was worse. The next one filled Sam with a sense of dread. I don't know where to find him.

He had gone back to the motel where he last saw Dad and Dean, but someone else was there now. He had tried the phone number, but only got a disconnect notice. They were gone. Gone.

And Sam didn't even know where to start looking.

Note: What do you think? Interested in reading more? Please let me know in the reviews!