sorry this one is short, but it seems like it's a good place to end that particular chapter, for all it's... lame. Sorry guys. For Mish, as always, I never forgot about her birthday, really. Or this fic.

Chapter 2

I'm broken, when I'm lonesome. And I don't feel right when you're gone away.

Seether

Dean let out a moaning groan as he felt various joints pop and crack as he rose to his feet. He was used to it, in some ways, by now. Sounding older than he was, but the pain was new, and uncomfortable. No point in hiding that from Bobby, as he let the older man ease his arm over his shoulders so that they could walk down the hallway.

"Not sure you're so ready to be out of the hospital yet, Boy," Bobby groused quietly. Dean shrugged with one shoulder.

"Not so sure I care," he pointed out, "I gotta find Sam. I can't believe you haven't heard anything from him yet. He has your number, and he's gotta be fine." Dean shut his eyes tightly, locking his jaw for a few minutes, "I can't remember, Bobby. I can't remember where we were hunting."

"Just another thing to bill those angels from, come judgment day," Bobby told him calmly, keeping his pace matched to the younger man's shuffling walk. "I should never have brought you clothes," he grumbled, wishing to force Dean back into the hospital bed for just a few days more. But he knew the man wasn't going to heal any worrying himself sick over Sam's wellbeing. So the best he could do would be to help him start looking. "I'm sure Sam's fine, if those dicks in the clouds are telling you they're keeping him around," he pointed out, eyeing the younger man sideways.

"I don't care, Bobby, I don't care what they want! I need to know where Sam is, I need to know he's okay! I died for him, I've got a bit of a stake in him living a while longer, okay?"

"I know, you think I don't care about your brother? You idjit," Bobby spat in disgust. "I'm just worried you're pushing yourself too hard, you know Sam's fine. Otherwise why hold Sam over your head like bait?"

"Because I wouldn't know if he was dead. They could make me jump through all these hoops just to find out…" Dean swallowed hard, "Just to find out that he's been dead the whole time."

"Dean, I think if they could kill you or your brother they'dve done it already, you're both annoying enough."

"At least I'm good looking," Dean pointed out with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. He didn't think he could handle dealing with any of the implications of Sam's absence for much longer. For all it was eating at him, a slow cancerous growth born of terror, fighting his heart's every beat. Have to find Sam. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Sam'n I are all that's left, I'm supposed to be looking out for him, I gotta find him Bobby, I just gotta find him."

"And we will, boy, so stop thinking about it, and worry about where you're putting your feet," Bobby snapped, when Dean staggered for the third or fourth time, almost dragging Bobby down with him.

"I'm watching my feet!" Dean insisted, "But it's not doing me a lot of good," he coughed weakly.

"I shoulda gotten you a wheelchair."

"Like hell I'm leaving in that," he bit off, annoyed.

"Well then, you wouldn't be leaving at all then, would you?"

Dean wisely kept his mouth shut, in that it wasn't too late to force him into one. But he didn't want Bobby wheeling him out. Just because his body was a mess of holes and shooting agony didn't mean he couldn't walk himself out of a hospital. The day that happened, he'd stay in until he was good enough to escape. He was always well enough to get out, usually. Just doctors and running their tests and everything else…it got so boring. But then there was Sammy, trying to get him to stay just another day, one more day, with those huge puppy dog eyes. And it usually worked for a few hours at a time.

Glad to sink into Bobby's old car, he let his eyes close, shifting so his shoulder was against the door. When Bobby slid into the driver's seat, his eyes flicked to all his mirrors, rearview last, causing him to startle when he saw something, no, someone.

"Damnit to hell," Bobby snapped, startling Dean into full awareness as he twisted painfully to view the backseat.

"Son of a bitch," hissed out between clenched teeth, and Dean let his body untwist and chose to watch Cas from the mirror. "What the hell do you want?"

"You're not fully healed."

"And you think that matters? It's never mattered before," Dean pointed out irritably. "In fact, I won't be all the way healed until Sam gets his ass right here, and I've got my car back!"

"The car is possible."

"What the hell's that mean? You'll give me my car, but not Sam?" Dean was pretty sure this was a decent trade, from an angel. He could use his car to find Sam. It wasn't like he was stupid enough to promise jack shit to an angel. Especially not one that was keeping his brother away from him. Closing his eyes. "So, you'll just give me my car back? No strings attached? Is that what I'm getting?"

"No."

"Then no deal."

Bobby was watching the interchange silently. Last time they had 'met' this angel, Castiel had put him under for the duration of his talk with Dean. This time he'd rather remain conscious, if unnoticed.

"Why must you be so stupid?" Cas asked in exasperation. "Don't you understand? You are better without your brother, safer."

Shocked at seeing even a glimmer of emotion on the angel's face and in his voice, Dean's eyes went round, before he shifted to face him. "Look, I don't know what it's like to be an angel hiding up in the clouds or whatever it is you dicks do all day, but I have a family, and just because it doesn't mean a damn thing to you doesn't mean I don't care!" Locking onto that ice blue stare, "I am not doing anything without my brother! Don't you get that? I have to have someone watching my back, because you idiots are never around when you're needed!"

"We are trying to stop the seals from being broken!"

"Well you're all sure doing a damn bang up job of it, I mean how many are broken now? Seems to me like you guys can't do anything right!"

"We are at least trying to act, trying to fight," Castiel persisted, and all Dean wanted to do was hit him. Hard. One of these days, he was going to. Even if it broke his hand.

"And I'm not? I'm out there every day, hunting down some new evil you guys never had time for in the first place, just sitting on your asses relaxing in the clouds while us Hunters do all the work! You do your job, and I'll do mine!" the pain was increasing, and Dean knew that Cas was attempting to force him to stay in the hospital. He was practically clinging to Bobby in an attempt to stay standing despite the pain. The aloneness of it all hurt him. Sam should be there, watching over him, helping him cope by being a pain in the ass. Standing up to Cas, too. God Dean was miserable. Spitting blood onto the floor, "You give me back my brother or you get the hell away from me, because I will find a way to kill you."

Seeming shocked, almost, the angel's eyes rounded, before his jaw set in a hard line. "You don't know what you're asking for," he said, and then disappeared.

Dean heaved a sigh of relief, and Bobby stared. "Maybe we should be keeping you in the hospital a day or two longer, you alright there boy?"

"I'm fine," Dean smiled, flicking a tongue over his teeth to wash the blood away. "You haven't heard from Sam, not the whole time I've been in this hellhole?"

"Not a thing, and I've checked all the phones I have," Bobby shifted his cap some, before tugging it down snuggly. "You're so damn determined to get out of here," he started, then shook his head a little, "Let's get movin' then."

"Yes sir," Dean replied enthusiastically. Then they could find Sam.

Dean woke up off the couch, before stretching his body out. He'd fallen asleep in sweatpants in preparation for morning. He hadn't told Bobby what he was planning to get up to, for one he was sick of being called 'idjit' and now matter how much he loved the man, sometimes it got old hearing how stupid he was, all the time. Pleased to feel his body stretching the way it should, he'd never been particularly flexible, but he could still touch his toes. Usually. Unless some massive injury was preventing him. Currently it wasn't. All the 'bullet holes' felt closed and healed. If still sore and tender to the touch. Bobby insisted on him resting all the time, and it was starting to wear him down. The sun was up, and Dean was ready to be moving again. Slipping on a battered pair of tennis shoes, wearing boots was not a good idea for this particular venture. Lacing them tightly, he rotated his ankles and wiggled his toes. They still fit, and he was going to be fine.

Quietly slipping out the back door, Dean figured that a light jog and then on the way back a short sprint wouldn't hurt him. Or if it would, the jog would be making him aware of it in plenty of time to spare. Setting out, the sun was warm, for all it wasn't full day yet, and it felt good. He felt good. Bobby thought he had a lead on Sam's whereabouts, and both were sure that the angels were stopping Sam's calls from reaching them. But that was just too bad, because Dean was good at finding people. And he was going to find Sam.

The jog didn't hurt, not really. The air had a bite to it, and it made Dean's lungs burn. It always had, and it always would. Cold always hurt him; he wasn't too sure about why, because he really didn't mind it too much so long as he wasn't trying to breathe deeply. But his legs felt strong, his chest wasn't aching, and he hadn't developed a stitch. The steady pounding of his feet against the dust road eventually started to hurt, but only a little. Not enough to make him stop, but enough to make him turn around. Figuring it would be best if he sprinted before he got to the house, so that he was walking back up to it with less chance of Bobby catching him running, he broke into a run, body leaned just a little forward, chest out and arms moving smoothly as his reached his stride. His legs stretched out, knees coming up, before his feet hit the ground, and came back up to give the appearance of almost touching his ass in a full extension. Once he knew he'd hit his top speed, he let his stride break apart, hitting the ground harder and more awkwardly as he felt his stride over-lengthen before turning into smaller steps and he turned it back into a light jog.

"Son of a bitch," he wheezed, seeing Bobby waiting for him on the front steps as he turned his jog into a walk, and bending over, hands on knees to heave in a few breaths before reaching the porch stairs, and a good dressing down.

"Feel better now?" Bobby asked gruffly.

In complete shock, Dean shrugged a little, straightening up, hands on hips to open his rib cage and allow for more oxygen, "Yeah, guess so," he grinned, still panting.

"Looks like you needed that, you ready to find Sam?"

"Hell yeah."

"Then get your ass in the car."

"No breakfast?"

"That's in there, too."

"Oh thank god," Dean grinned. "Knew you wouldn't me down."

"Do I ever?"

"Only when it comes to having a good wingman in the bars."

"Like you need a wingman," he snorted, "now get your stupid ass into the car." Shaking his head, Bobby watched Dean shift himself into the passenger seat, almost sitting on his breakfast before realizing it was there, and grinning. Rolling his eyes at the double thumbs up he received, Bobby slid into the driver's seat. "You do realize that the minute we get somewhere you can change, you have to. And shower. You smell like three day old roadkill in the middle o'summer." Rolling down the windows and wrinkling his nose in disgust, Bobby waved a hand in front of his face.

"I smell nothing like Sam does after a run," Dean pointed out irritably.

"But you sure as hell don't smell like no bed a'roses," Bobby snapped, before grinning a little.

Knowing it was a battle he just wasn't going to win, Dean rolled down his window, letting the wind dry the sweat, before looking into the small paper bag containing breakfast. Bacon wrapped in a paper towel, some of those flat sausage patties, and then some once-frozen waffles. The Breakfast of Champions.

"So where're we headed?"

"I heard some things from other hunters 'bout someone matching Sam's description, looking a little banged up, but okay. If it's Sam, he's even helped out on a hunt or two, apparently. If it's not, well, it's probably just the angels screwing with us."

"Well good thing we can think for ourselves, so we're gonna find Sam. No matter how they play us."

"Well eventually he's gonna show up," Bobby said reasonably, not feeling any need to crush Dean's hopes. It was the most spirit and determination he'd shown since getting out of the hospital. That confrontation with the angel had drained him, and Bobby hadn't been so sure he shouldn't put Dean back in a hospital bed. "How hard's it gonna be to find one real-life Sasquatch, huh?"

Dean grinned. "Harder than you think, sometimes since his phone's not working. And I can't get ahold of the GPS for it, either." It was as if Sam had disappeared off the planet. Dean doubted it, what would the angels do with him in the time being? Probably watch Sam figure out a way free of the holding cell and get back to him. They were family, all that was left, and Sam should be there. With him. They should be together.

Bobby watched as Dean slowly slid into sleep over the course of the next hundred miles.