The Problems With Dean had such a wonderful response, here's the requested Road Trip. AU version of Faith. (Hey, if everyone else can beat it to death, so can I!)

Problems with Dean: Road Trip

Chapter 1

Mikey's hands shook slightly as he accepted the shotgun from Sam. "What are we after again?" Two months of hunting things that go bump in the night had not eliminated his pre-hunt jitters.

"Rawhead," Sam said simply, as though that explained everything. "Dean, what do you have those amped up to?"

"One hundred thousand volts," Dean rumbled from inside the trunk.

"Damn," Sam muttered, accepting his taser.

"Yeah, I want this rawhead extra freakin' crispy." He slammed the trunk shut. "Remember, you only get one shot with these things, make it count." Dean's eyes rested on Mikey. "That shotgun won't do a damn thing, but it might slow it down a little. Your job is to get the kids out."

Mikey and Sam exchanged a meaningful look as they followed Dean inside. Only kids in danger made their oldest brother like this. Three flashlight beams flashed through the interior of the abandoned house. The musty smell of mold and decay enveloped them as they followed Dean's careful but hurried steps.

There was no sign of anyone, or anything, at ground level. Dean led the way down into the basement. Mikey paused at the top of the stairs. He felt the same way about cellars that Dean did about airplanes, but those were his brothers going down there with whatever-the-hell a rawhead was. Mikey took a deep breath as he followed. By the time he reached the middle of the stairs, two flashlight beams were trained on a cabinet. Mikey heard the noise from the stairs. He trained his shotgun on it, despite the fact he had been told it was worthless.

"On three," Dean's hoarse voice barely reached him on the stairs. "One. Two. Three." He whipped the doors open, Sam at his side. Inside were two children, frightened, hiding.

Mikey saw the relief in Dean's shoulders at finding the kids unharmed.

"Is it still here?" Sam whispered. Mikey could only hear frightened noises.

"Okay," Dean reached down, grabbing the boy's hand. "Grab your sister's hand. Come on, we're going to get you outta here." He led them toward the stairs. Mikey backed up to the top of the stairs, motioning for the kids to come. "Let's go, let's go!" It was strange to hear Dean's voice so commanding, but Mikey was getting used to it.

Mikey waited for the kids to come up. Sam followed them while Dean kept watch downstairs. Mikey gasped as Sam fell halfway down the stairs.

"Sam!" Dean's voice rang out, panicked.

It was too dark to really see anything, but Mikey could tell that Sam had been dragged off the stairs somewhere into the cellar. He heard the crackle of a taser, then Sam reappeared on the stairs.

"Sam, get them out of here!" Dean ordered.

"Here, take this!" Sam tossed his taser down, which Dean caught single-handed. Mikey caught the look from Sam and reached out to grab the boy's hand while Sam scooped the little girl in his arms. They ran through the house, depositing the kids in the relative safety of the Impala before going back to check on Dean.

Sam glared at Mikey a couple of times as they raced for the cellar stairs, apparently it was a better idea for baby brother to stay back with the rest of the kids. Maybe he was part of "them" in "get them out of here." Sam fairly flew down the rickety steps, which Mikey took more cautiously. He noticed Sam's light whipping through the dark.

"Dean!"

Mikey felt his heart skip a beat. There was panic in that single word, that name. Sam uttering that name with panic was more than enough to send a jolt through Mikey that literally took his breath away. He did not notice how the rest of the stairs creaked under his feet as he charged down into the bowels of the dreaded cellar. Dean was slumped in a puddle of water while Sam knelt beside him searching for a pulse in his neck.

"Mikey! He's not breathing!" Sam looked up, eyes wide with fear.

Mikey stood watching for the doctor. Sam was talking to the nurse at the desk and two police officers. He did not even care why. Where was that stupid doctor? No, Mikey told himself, not stupid. Very bright, very intelligent, very good doctor who was going to come out and tell him his brother was going to be just fine. Sam was walking away from the cops now and he looked like he was on a mission. The doctor!

"Hey, Doc," Sam stopped the doctor in the middle of the hall. "Is he?"

Mikey rushed to stand beside his brother, waiting anxiously.

"He's resting," the doctor replied with a sad nod. That did not sound good. Maybe they were back to 'stupid doctor.'

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. It has damaged his heart." Definitely a stupid doctor.

"What are you going to do about it?" Mikey demanded, too aware of his own heart hammering in his chest.

"Well, really all we can do is keep him comfortable. I give him a couple of weeks, maybe a month." No, asshole doctor.

"No. No." Sam shook his head. "There must be something you can do. Right?"

The doctor shook his head sadly. "He's awake, if you want to go in now."

Mikey followed Sam into the hospital room. He noticed his older brother's steps were slow and hesitant as they approached Dean's bed.

"We talked to your doctor," Sam said softly.

"Daytime tv sucks," Dean said as they approached. "You ever see that fabric softner teddy bear? Oh, gonna hunt that little bitch down." With a click, he shut off the tiny television about two feet in front of his face.

Mikey chuckled, but Sam did not look amused. Without the colored light from the tv screen, Dean looked even paler than he did before, if that were possible. Dark rings were forming under his eyes and was Mikey imagining it or was Dean's breathing shallow?

"Don't do this, Dean," Sam's voice was a plea. "We still have options."

Dean stared at the curtain that separated his bed from the rest of the room, which was thankfully empty right now. "Like what? Burial or cremation?"

Mikey managed to stifle his laugh that time as he glanced up. Sam's ears were turning red and that was never a good sign. "Don't." Sam leveled a finger at Dean. "Just don't."

Dean still would not look at them, preferring to stare at that stupid curtain instead. Mikey leaned over and gave him a light punch in the shoulder. "Stop that!"

Dean's eyes slid over to him and a slight smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. "You stop it."

"Make me."

Dean's eyebrows arched at him. "Oh? Gonna make me get up out of this bed, are you?"

"I'm going to figure something out, Dean," Sam said, as though neither had spoken. "We're going to beat this."

Dean rolled his eyes. He did not say anything else, but Mikey had the feeling his oldest brother had already given up, accepted his fate. And that, more than anything the stupid doctor said, scared him right down to his bones.

-

Sam sat hunched over his father's journal, pouring over the pages as if they held the golden promise of Dean's salvation. Mikey doubted it, but after everything he had seen in the past couple of months, who was he to voice those kinds of thoughts? After all, Sam had prophetic dreams and now waking visions which packed one hell of a punch, there were scarecrows that could eat you, and his brothers' dead mother had appeared out of thin air to save their collective butts. Certainly it was possible to save Dean. Mikey hoped so, for all their sakes.

Sam was not looking too good, either. Since the doctor's pronouncement of Dean's apparent fate his cheeks had sunk in and his eyes had taken on a permanent redness so he looked constantly on the verge of tears. Sam never cried, so Mikey could only assume it was stress. Mom would probably think…

"Shit!" Mikey spun around to face Sam. "We haven't called Mom!" His mind was in a whirl. How were they going to explain that Dean was electrocuted? "What will we tell Pop?"

"Not Pop," Sam pulled out his cell. "I have to call Dad."

What the hell? Mikey watched in disbelief as Sam called the very last person on the entire planet Dean would want them to call. The heavy sigh could only mean one thing: voicemail.

"Dad? It's Sam. I'm calling because Dean," Sam's voice cracked, but he recovered quickly, "it's bad. It's his heart and the doctors here can't do anything. I was hoping you knew someone or about something that would help. Thanks." He took in a shuddering breath as he disconnected the call. "He'll kill me, you know," Sam mumbled.

"Yep." Mikey glared at Sam. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I don't care," Sam was still staring at the phone, as if he could will it to ring. "Whatever it takes to help Dean."

An hour later they had switched places. Mikey, a fresh set of eyes, was reading the journal while Sam used his laptop to cruise the internet for a medical solution. Mikey had not found anything remotely useful, but Sam was much better at that kind of stuff anyway. Sam's cell phone rang.

The laptop tumbled to the bed as Sam lunged for his phone. "Hello?" He frowned. "Yes, this is Sam Winchester." Mikey glared at him. They shared a name, and it was not Winchester. Dean could not even say that name without snarling. "Where? What's his name?" A hand snagged the laptop and Sam typed frantically into it. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks. Joshua, was it? Right. Thanks a lot. Really appreciate it."

Sam slammed the cell phone onto the nightstand. "We're going to Nebraska!"

Before Mikey could ask why, there was a knock on the door. He was closer so he jumped up to answer it. A very pale and haggard looking Dean was leaning against the doorframe, a thin grin on his face. Without a word, Mikey helped him into their crappy motel room, silently cursing himself for not springing for better accommodations. He should have known Dean would just show up with no warning, that was just typical of his big brother.

"Dean, are you crazy!" Sam practically leapt across the room, seizing a chair on his way. He pushed it gently behind their brother as Mikey eased a shivering Dean into it. Even with a zipped up sweatshirt, Dean was cold.

"Dude, I am not dying in some damn hospital." Dean shook his head. His eyes drifted to pages of heart literature littering the beds and floor. "You two have been busy."

"Yeah," Mikey was careful to stand behind Dean as he scowled at Sam. "I still have to call Mom."

"Damn," Dean breathed softly, shaking his head. "What are you gonna say?"

"Don't know," Mikey admitted. "Probably the reason I haven't called her yet."

"Need to do it soon," Dean recommended. "I'm still trying to decide which of you gets the car."

Sam's face darkened, which was probably what spurred Mikey's next comment. "Really? I figured you'd want to be buried in it."

"Considered it, but - nah!" Dean shook his head, that weak grin shining for Mikey alone. "Doubt you can find a plot big enough."

"I thought there was some movie star or somebody who was buried in their car," Mikey racked his brains for the name. He was sure he had heard that somewhere.

"Ah – somebody with money. Nah, just light me up. Toast some marshmallows, drink some beer." Dean was really grinning now.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Not only were Sam's ears red now, but his whole face was flush.

Mikey exchanged a look with Dean and they both cast their eyes to the floor. They had not intended to upset Sam that much. Yeah, some – but not quite that much. He heard Sam take a deep breath.

"I found a specialist in Nebraska. We leave in the morning." Sam's voice was soft yet insistent.

Dean sighed, slumping in the hard wooden chair. "Not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

"We're not going to let you die. Period." Sam snapped.

Mikey headed for the door. "Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"Somebody has to call Mom," Mikey replied without turning around. He stepped out into the cool night air. He had his cell out, but his fingers were unwilling to press the familiar buttons. What the hell was he going to say?

tbc...