Chapter 1: Hard way home

I wish I could find a soul to steal

'Where are we going?'

It took a long time for Dean to respond to Sam's question. Dean didn't understand why. Obviously, he didn't know where they were going; Sam knew that. But it wasn't really that. Sam was pushing for something and Dean was too tired to get into it.

The headlights illuminated the wet and deserted highway. Dean was driving; his brother was in the backseat. Sam was supposed to be trying to sleep, but instead he was annoying Dean with stupid questions neither of them knew the answer to.

'I don't know, Sam. In the opposite direction of where we should be going. Away. Just… away.'

They were done. They'd left everything behind. Their duty and apocalypses and all that shit. Everything and nothing. But not really, Dean thought. His hands were firm on the wheel and his foot was on the gas. He was sure they had done the right thing. He was sure.

'Maybe you should drive. You're not sleeping anyway,' he suggested. In the rearview mirror, he watched Sam unfold.

'Even if I fitted back here, I don't like sleeping in the car,' Sam whined. They stopped and switched seats. It felt weird to have Sam driving. It made sense, though. Dean kind of thought that if it was up to him, they would be driving back the way they had come.

Since he wasn't as freakishly tall as his brother, Dean had no trouble curling up in the backseat. It took a little time, but he got in a comfortable position in the end. Also, he'd never had any trouble sleeping in the Impala. He liked the sounds the car made. It was ridiculous how much he had missed his baby. He breathed in the smell of the leather seats. The lights flashing past and the feeling of the miles of road passing underneath; it was all familiar. Leave it to Sam to bitch about the one thing left that felt like home.

'What are we going to do?'

Sam again, with the refusing to sleep and not letting him sleep either. Groaning, Dean sat up straight. It was a nice distraction. Once he started to think about it, he quickly changed his mind. It was like asking what you want to be when you grow up. At least Sam had an idea about that. Dean didn't. He'd never had. He hadn't gotten further than demon hunter. Stupidly, he had completely brushed aside the glaring fact that it wasn't exactly a long term career.

Guess he had been wrong about that too.

'I want to fake my death.'

Sam glanced at him. Weirded out at first and then more of a glare.

'Be serious,' he implored.

'What? That's a thing!' Dean protested. It was. Everyone was doing it nowadays. Of course, they wouldn't be able to get away with it, because no one would buy it for a second. Dean was all for believing, but even he didn't have that much faith in luck. Also, there were certain people that Dean didn't want to fool. Friends in high places.

'You still want to be a lawyer?'

'Maybe. I don't know. Hey, we could live in Michigan. I hear the trees are the right height there.'

It was funny in a dorky kinda way and Sam obviously didn't know whether he got the joke, so Dean cracked a smile.

'You've been sitting on that one for a while, haven't you?'

'Yeah,' Sam admitted, grinning.

Dean shuffled back into a lying position. A silence fell. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. This proved less effective for falling asleep than he'd hoped it would. He remembered souls lurking in the darkness.

He thought about all the decisions that had led to that moment and he couldn't think of one good one he had made over the last year. There must have been good ones, because bad ones got you killed and he was alive and Sam was alive. Yeah, other people had gotten killed, but if all his decisions had been bad, a lot more people should have died.

So, he tried a little harder, but for the life of him Dean couldn't conjure up one single time when he'd arrived at a sensible, normal choice. What they were doing now wasn't even rational. Walking away from it all. Damn destiny was just going to find them. It always did.

Turning onto his side, he could feel that Sam was about to say something, but he willed his brother to keep his opinions to himself. Shut up, shut up, shut up, he thought and it seemed to help, because Sam only sighed.

After another five minutes of silence, Dean gave up on getting some sleep. He was just wrecking his mind with thoughts of Purgatory. Red eyes. Growling. He remembered how fucking frightened he had been. He remembered thinking that it was something as fucked up as fate that had brought the two of them there. Even now, he couldn't shake the lingering suspicion that he was supposed to be there instead of in the backseat of a car going nowhere. But, most of all, he remembered turning around and being alone.

(***)

Author's note: Story title, chapter titles and snippets of lyrics are from Brandi Carlile's wonderful new album Bear Creek.