A/n: Tochi: Yeah, I'm really getting a lot of shit about Sam sleeping instead of helping Dean, and I'm also getting shit because of what Dean's doing. Stop asking why they're doing what they are. They have their reasons.

Flap Jack: SHE HAS A SPINE!!!

Tochi: -gasp-!

Flap Jack: -hits Tochi with fish- we don't own SPN… yet

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Dean was bored to hell and back, no way around it. He'd checked his phone recently, it was currently 4 am. Dean was sitting, sprawled out wondering why he hadn't called the police or something.

Sure he hated agreeing with them, and he hated having to ask them for help, but he was willing to swallow his pride and get his ass outta there.

His mind continued whirring, trying to figure this problem out, and then it hit him.

'Hello, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm supposed to be dead and I'm suspected of murder, but I was wondering if you could help me, see, I have no idea where I am, except I'm in a small cage in a drafty barn somewhere in the country, and a bunch of hicks want to hunt me, I was wondering if you could come and help me.' Yeah, that would work just oh so well.

He didn't even know if he could get reception where he was, the only sign that it was even working was the call Sam had given him sometime last night, and he was pretty sure his tower had switched over by now, not to mention that annoying A at the top of his phone that meant 'you don't have reception, please try waving the phone around until you find it.'

He knew he was screwed, and starving for that matter. The last time he had eaten was two days ago- Sam had brought back Chinese take out. He remembered that they'd fed Jenkins before they let him out to be hunted down, but he wondered if they only fed you right before they hunted you.

He wondered why they didn't try and fatten them up like a Thanksgiving turkey, more meat to eat or… whatever they did with the bodies.

He sat there in his little cage mulling this over for an hour or so until he finally came up with an answer. They didn't want you to get fat so it would be harder to hunt you.

That thought in mind Dean slowly pushed himself up, bending over so he could stand, grunting as the pain of his cut stabbed at him. He walked over to the front of the cage, pushing on the door to have something to do if nothing else.

He pushed on it for quite sometime before he just got bored with it and sat back down, leaning against it.

Sometimes Dean wondered if he was ADD. He never seemed to be able to amuse himself for very long unless they were at a bar, hunting or he was driving his baby. Hell, sometimes he got way to easily distracted while he was doing any of the above! Bars, he'd walked away from a game of darts after chicks before, hunting, if nothing threatening was nearby, he tended to get interested in the things around him, and driving? He'd tune out every now and then, that was the only time the car went below 75.

He would get himself tested for it if he ever got out of there and if he decided to actually go to a hospital for something that wasn't already physically wrong.

He started humming a Metallica tune, looking around the damp and musky room. Nothing of real interest there. Dean swore, he if he didn't find something to do soon, he was going to go bat shit insane.

Dean stopped his humming once he'd gotten distracted by a bug flying in front of his face and lost his place in the song. Soon after that he decided he needed to piss again, and something to eat would be nice… and so would water for that matter. "These people really don't take good care of their 'animals'" Dean spat out the last word somewhat angrily as he glared at the door.

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Sam thought he'd never get back to town and only once he'd gotten to the gas station did it hit him that he could have called a tow truck.

He shook his head and walked away from the station seeing as he didn't have anything to carry the gas with, he was on his own.

Sammy marched himself to the mechanics and after several minutes of trying to wake him up, then several more to get him to understand that Dean's car was stranded out in the country and he needed a tow truck to get it into town.

After what Sam guessed was an hour they were in the rusty old truck, Sam's window rolled down. The air freshener had long since stopped working, and now Sam was just guessing it was there for decoration. The truck smelled very, very bad, like manure and skunk thrown together.

Twenty torturous minutes later, they were back with the Impala, both out of the car, Sam enjoying the un-stinky air, and the mechanic hooking up the car.

Sam knew Dean would be upset about this whole deal. First, Sam had let the car run out of gas, then he'd left it alone, and now some dirty man was hooking it up to the back of a rusted old tow truck.

"Well, she's all hooked up, let's git 'er outta here!" The smelly guy said somewhat proudly.

Sam held back a groan as he moved back toward the giant hunk of rust and pulled the door open. It was even creakier than the Impala's doors. He sat himself inside on the lumpy and taped up seat, rolling his window down as soon as old rusty was turned on.

This was going to be one hell of a day. The car was attached to a rust bucket, Sam was freaking out inside about all this, and Dean was going to be hunted down like some sort of animal.

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Tochi: Well, tiny update and nothing really happened… maybe there'll be more hick action next time, all depending on if I get more shit.

Flap Jack: -clears throat- you've read this far, so write a review, put it on alert (if you haven't already) and join the army damn you!