Title: No Choice At All Characters: Dean, implied Sam Summary: Dean considers his father?s disappearance and whose help he might need. Rating: T for safety Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Author Note: Thanks to TheMacUnleasehed for this plot bunny. This little vignette will be taking many of you back; back to the pilot and Dean?s arrival Stanford. I am a complete n00b to Supernatural, but I am so glad my brother pestered me to watch. It is his favorite show. I hope you will enjoy this, first and relatively short Supernatural fic. No Choice At All It wasn?t the first time his dad had been gone more than a couple of days. Dean didn?t like ?holding the fort? as his father would say before closing the door behind him. In fact, he chafed whenever his father went hunting without him. There was an implied lack of faith in his ability to handle the tough ones. One would think that he would need all the help he could get. But, hey, if the old man wanted to take on Satan himself, all alone, Dean was nothing if not a dutiful son. But, it had been almost a week and John Winchester wasn?t one to stay out of contact for long. If he stared at walls of their middle class home for much longer he might go crazy. Dad knew what he was doing. But why hadn?t he called. Things must have gotten complicated. He just forgot. Dad didn?t forget. If he couldn?t call, there were other ways they had set up to stay in touch. He had already checked the paper and there were no coded messages the prescribed websites. Where the hell was he? Dean laughed, but not because anything was funny. The pun was morbid. There was a very real possibility that his father was in Hell. Dean put the idea out of his head. This side of Heaven, John Winchester was the baddest demon killer there was. No way was he dead. His father had left no forwarding address other than the name of a town: Jericho. It was as good a place as any to start looking. Dean packed the car like his father had taught him; all the prerequisites included: shotguns, hand guns, rock salt, Holy water, crucifixes, silver bullets, and all the other stuff necessary to send the dead and demon to their final resting place. Just before spitting gravel and spinning tires out of town, Dean had a thought to call his brother. Why the thought occurred he couldn?t figure. Sam was gone. He might still be alive, but to Dad and to some extent Dean, too, he was lost cause and a traitor to the family. His father felt this more strongly than Dean, but by extension he resented his brother leaving them in the lurch. It was the family business after all. But Sam needed to know that their dad was missing. He flipped open his phone and dialed Sam?s number. The college nerd was probably slumped over a pile of books studying for some big test. What Sam saw in a ?normal? life, Dean didn?t know. He really didn?t care either. Or did he? Some part of him, buried deep under his father?s bitterness toward Sam, he missed his brother. And if his father was truly missing; like unable to reach out, Dean might need help finding him and defeating whatever thing had grabbed him. Crap. He hated the idea of needing help or even thinking he might need it. But Sam was the only one who could. Would he? Dean flipped his phone shut. He would be making this call in person. It was the only way to impress upon his little brother the seriousness of the situation. Stepping into his ?67 Chevy Impala, he burned rubber toward Stanford.