Disclaimer:Supernatural belongs to it's rightful owner/creator. I make not profit from this. Lyrics belong to Robert Plant's "Big Log"

Warnings:Violence, swearing, subjects which could offend.

Author's Note:This chapter is shorter than the rest of them will be, hopefully. This story is a bit of a challenge for me, as I've never written a sequel before. It will also be a little shorter than The Strange Face of Love, but I hope it will be just as good.

Next chapter will be from Dean's perspective.

My love is a-miles in the waiting

The eyes that just stare, and the glance at the clock

And the secret that burns, and the pain that grows dark

And it's you once again

- -

"So what's the plan genius?" Sam asked as he slumped down against a tree trunk. They were taking a brief five minute breather before they continued. The terrain had grown steadily rougher as they had walked throughout the afternoon, their way blocked by boulders and rocks, thick undergrowth, ditches and streams and fallen trees. It seemed to Sam as if they were starting to climb, and he had to wonder where exactly they were. At least it didn't look like it was going to rain, and Dean seemed to know what he was doing so he was content to follow.

It still didn't make him like the whole thing any better, but getting pissed off about it wouldn't change anything. He'd wait until they got out before he gave into his anger.

"Plan is for you to shut up and follow my lead," Dean replied as he took a few sips from their only water bottle.

"Isn't that what I've been doing so far, idiot?" Sam grumbled. "I mean where are you headed? What's the plan to get to the meeting point?"

"Quickest way is if we cut across these foothills. We should come across a river sometime tomorrow morning. If we follow that then it'll take us straight to where Dad and Bobby are."

"Should?" Sam queried, raising an eyebrow as he accepted the water bottle from Dean. Dean grinned at him as he tied a bandanna over his head and began to strip off his outer shirt.

"That is if I don't get us lost before then."

Sam tilted his head as he watched Dean tie his shirt around his waist and stuff his jacket into the back pack.

"If you're trying to scare me it won't work," he told him calmly. "Dad would be pissed if you got us lost on purpose and you know it."

"And since when did you care about Dad getting pissed about anything?" Dean shot back good naturedly. "Seems like these days you go out of your way to piss him off."

"That's not the point," Sam muttered, looking away sullenly.

There was no way Dean would get them lost, he knew that. Besides him actually having a reasonable head on his shoulders, he wouldn't risk pissing their dad off because he knew the man was serious about the whole training shit. Sam couldn't care less about the whole thing, but he went along with it because he had no choice, and because he knew Dean wanted him there. And if he was (grudgingly) honest with himself, there was no way he'd just let Dean walk off into the forest by himself. Too many things could go wrong, despite all of his knowledge about surviving in the outdoors. A broken ankle, a snake bite, rock falls, bad weather...There was no way he'd let Dean go at it on his own. If he was there and something happened, they would tackle it together.

He started slightly as Dean collapsed beside him and took the water bottle out of his hands.

"We're headed North East at the moment. Once we hit the river we'll be heading East."

"Wait a minute..." Sam frowned. "Doesn't that mean we're taking a longer way? If we'd avoided the foot hills and headed North we would have hit the river faster and we could have followed it straight to the meeting point."

"That's true. But..." Dean paused as he wrestled the map from his jeans pocket. "The terrain that way is very difficult. The way we're taking is longer, but it's easier. See? The terrain to the north is a lot denser than this. Trust me, Sammy. This way is better."

"I still think we could have gone the other way." Sam replied.

"Well, geek boy, we're too far into these hills to go back now." Dean punched him on the shoulder cheerfully. "Best to suck it up and stop with the girly whining."

"Who's whining?" Sam snorted. "Someone needs to represent the other side of the coin here Dean."

Dean shot him a weird look and got to his feet, stretching with a grunt.

"How am I related to you? Other side of the coin my ass..."

Sam shook his head and got to his feet.

"Whatever man. Let's just get this over with, alright? God if I have to listen to you for another two days about how frigging amazing you are, I swear I'm gonna kill you."

"Who, me? Just trying to help you face the facts, Sammy boy. I can't help it if you're jealous."

Sam followed his brother as he climbed around a bolder and started back in the direction they were headed. He had no problem with scrambling up the small inclines and rises with his longs legs and arms. In fact, if anything, his height was more of a hindrance. When he had turned fifteen he had shot up like a bean stalk, becoming all gangly legs and long arms. To make it worse, he hadn't yet filled out, so he was whipcord thin with elbows and knees that stuck out awkwardly. It had taken him awhile to adjust to fitting in smaller places, and he was still catching his limbs on doorways and furniture.

Squeezing through a small crevice between two boulders had Dean chuckling as he grabbed his arm and helped him through as Sam swore.

"I could easily kill you out here and bury the body. No one would ever find you," Sam muttered as he brushed dirt from his jeans and hoody.

Dean laughed out loud at this as he continued up the slope.

"I can think of at least one person who would be asking questions."

Sam shook his hair out of his eyes and refused to get pulled into Dean's conversation. If he let him, Dean would continue the argument for hours just for entertainment, and Sam knew that before an hour was out, he'd be sick of it. Better to quit while he was ahead, he figured. It would save him the headache at the very least.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam frowned as he ducked a low hanging branch. Dean was humming up ahead, some Metallica song that he didn't recognize. They hadn't talked in awhile, but that was normal for them. The sense of co-existing without needing to talk had always been a comfortable one for him. A lot of the time they communicated without speaking, mostly through body language or eye contact, but when Dean didn't feel the incessant need to annoy him to distraction, and Sam had nothing to say for a change, they found that they could keep each other company in silence without it being strained.

He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with it this time. Sure, Dean seemed content enough, ruthlessly breaking branches and tramping through the undergrowth as he hummed, but something was bugging Sam, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Maybe it was the way the sun was shining without a trace of warmth, or the cool wind which raced through the trees. The rustling of leaves and branches was making him edgy, but there was something else that wasn't quite right.

Some people would be admiring the day and the fresh air, but not Sam. His senses were on high alert, and he was buzzing with a barely contact adrenalin. His fight or flight instinct, already more heightened than Dean's or their father's, was poised to kick into action at the slightest provocation.

"Hey, uh…Dean?" he called out hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Dean stopped and turned around, looking down at him from a small rise.

Sam glanced around himself surreptitiously before looking back up at him.

"Do you…uh.." he broke off, wondering how to say what he needed to say without making it sound lame and stupid.

Dean was frowning down at him, sweat glistening on his forehead and soaking the edge of his bandana.

"What's up, Sammy? We've still got a lot of ground to cover."

"Do you think we can stop soon?" he asked, rethinking his position. "I'm not feeling too good."

There was no point in informing Dean of his uneasiness until he had something solid to back it up. No doubt Dean would think him more stupid and childish than he already did, and Sam couldn't afford to lose his only ally against his father over something so little. He told himself he was being paranoid, and that it meant nothing.

He was just tired that was all. They had been walking since midday, and it was nearing dusk rapidly. In fact, he was suddenly ravenously hungry.

Dean had tilted his head and gave him a calculating look before he turned around again and set off. He probably knew that Sam was lying; in fact, Sam would bet everything he owned that he did. But for once, Dean didn't call him on it, and let it slide. Sam was an excellent liar, better even than Dean. But the one person he couldn't lie to was Dean, for his older brother always saw through it.

Sometimes Sam felt like Dean could see through his every defense and down into the very depths of his being. It unnerved and irritated him at times, but there was nothing quite like the knowledge and security of having someone who knew you to the bone.

"We'll start looking for a place to hole up for the night," he called over his shoulder. " I don't think it'll rain, but I'd rather not take the chance."

Sighing with relief, Sam scrambled up to follow his brother. At least if they found a sheltered place to rest for the night, then he could try and soothe his fears in peace. That was, if Dean left him alone long enough to be able to.

As they continued on their rough trek, Sam's mind began to fill with the kind of thoughts that usually plagued him when he had too much time on his hands. Which usually led to him becoming moody and distracted and causing major frustration for both his father and Dean. It wasn't like he could help it. Hell, he tried to stop himself from thinking too deeply on things that got him feeling down, but somehow or other, he was always inevitably drawn back into doing just that.

Most of the time it was things to do with family, and all the things that he longed desperately for but could never actually reach no matter how hard he tried. Surprisingly, a lot of the time he thought about his mother. Would she be pleased with the person he was or disappointed? What would she think of all the things he had been forced to do? Of all the things he had killed, and hunted, and everything he knew about that he shouldn't? Would she be proud of his attempts to be strong, and his courage when he faced down the demons that consistently followed him no matter how far he traveled?

Sam hoped so. And even though he had never actually met her, didn't remember her at all, he loved and missed her. One of his biggest losses, he figured, was that he had never known a mother's love. Maybe that was the reason he was so different. Or why he was such a screw up, though he knew most of that was through his own doings.

The other thing he thought about a lot was the Wraith. Despite it being one of the things that he needed to put behind him more than anything, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Sam couldn't remember everything that had happened, and the things he did remember were a little hazy, but despite that, he had learned many things. Most, he wished he hadn't, but some were good.

The whole experience had left marks on him, gouged deep valleys in who he was, like the way glaciers had helped shape the land thousands of years ago. He couldn't help but feel that that incident had changed who he was, and he knew he didn't much like who he had become. And he wasn't the only one it had changed. His dad had become more focused, more driven, and more determined. The changes in Dean had been more subtle, and Sam was still trying to figure those changes out, despite all the time that had passed.

After everything, no one had really talked about what had happened. Dean had let him know, in his own way, that if Sam needed to get anything off his mind that he would be there to listen. And he had listened, when Sam had been woken time after time by the vicious and violent nightmares that disturbed his sleep. He'd listened to his nonsensical, half sobbed ramblings that didn't make sense even to him .He'd soothed Sam back into sleep, whispering nonsense into his ear that never failed to calm him. Sam had wondered if that was what his mother would have done, and decided that it probably would have been.

"Hey, boof head," Dean said. "Snap out of it."

Sam blinked and realized that Dean had stopped walking and that he'd almost crashed into him.

"I think here's a good place. At least for a few hours. We'll have to get an early start tomorrow morning if we've going to make rendezvous," Dean told him.

Sam immediately felt guilty for Dean. Because of his insecurities, yet again, Dean had had to change his plans to accommodate him. He wondered if Dean ever thought of him as a burden, nothing more than deadweight who held him back. And not for the first time, he wondered what Dean's life would have been like without him around. He'd probably be a person (or as normal as Dean could be) with a mother and a father and probably a girl friend too. What would he do for a living, Sam wondered, as he followed Dean up into the small, sheltered half cave he'd found. Would he be a doctor? An outdoor adventurer? Something active, that was for sure.

Sam didn't have much of a chance to think about this because a fist caught him gently on the side of his head.

"What the hell is running through that over sized brain of yours huh?" Dean asked, without any judgment in his tone. "I swear, every time I look at you, you seem like you're about to drown in a puddle of your own emo-ness."

Sam snorted at his brothers phrasing, and shook his head.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," he muttered half to himself as he pulled their backpack between his legs and opened it. "Did the drill Sergeant pack us any food or are we expected to catch our own?"

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes as he sat down next to him.

"You don't let anything go, do you? How long are you going to hold this particular grudge?"

Sam glared at him for a second before going to back to rummaging through the bag. There was the map Dean had been using, a water bottle, a compass, Dean's battered Zippo, two large hunting knives, a small first aid kit, a small flash light, an EMF and a plastic bag with what had to be food in it.

Sam pulled it out and opened the bag, frowning when the first thing he saw was an enormous packet of Dean's peanut M&M's. To his dismay, as he burrowed through the bag, all he found was junk food. He whipped his head up to glare at Dean, who grinned and retrieved the M & M's.

"What? Dad said to always be prepared."

"Did you throw out all the good food just so you could get your sugar fix?" Sam growled.

"What? Dad only gave us boring shit. We need sugar for this job," Dean replied around a mouthful of chocolate. Sam screwed up his nose disgusted.

"So if we were really stuck out here, starving to death and all we had was all this crap, we'd make ourselves sick with junk food?" Sam queried, although he really wasn't surprised at Dean's explanation. If he could, Dean would live off unhealthy food, filled with calories, sugar and caffeine. Sam couldn't eat half the stuff that Dean could for more than a few days before he started feeling sick.

"Sam, if we were actually stuck out here and starving to death, we'd be happy with whatever we had."

Sam shook his head, annoyed yet relieved at the familiar banter that Dean was providing. Somehow, without him even realizing it, Dean had dismissed his fears and distracted him with his usual antics. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Dean had been using the tactic on his for years. It left him a little disgruntled and he wondered just how many arguments and discussions Dean had avoided using said sneaky tactic.

"Whatever. You're going to be fat and ugly in a couple of years if you keep eating this stuff," Sam told him, shaking his head and stealing a handful of Dean's chocolate. Dean made a swipe at his hand and missed.

"Me? Fat? And ugly? Not possible kiddo. Not a chance in hell."

Sam shook his head again and hid his smile, as he looked away. The sun had fully set, leaving dark purple and orange smudges on the horizon. The overhang that they were residing in was not only shielded from the cold wind, but it also provided a vantage point over anything that might try and approach them during the night. Not that that would do much good in that dark, but still, it was good thinking on Dean's behalf.

It was quiet, Sam realized. He wasn't used to such silence. Usually at night all he could hear was his dad's or Dean snoring, and the cars and trucks passing by whatever motel they were calling home at the time. All he could hear was the occasional cricket, the muted hooting of an owl and the wind.

That same uneasiness returned to settle deep within his gut. It was a familiar feeling to him, but despite that, it never got any easier to live with. He never felt safe anymore, even when Dean was at his side, though he never let him know that. All Dean wanted was for him to be safe, he knew, and even when he was he never fully felt it.

The EMF would let them know if something was around. Until then, he'd have to rely on Dean and himself. Dean was munching away happily beside him, lost in his own thoughts and his sugar hit, so Sam wrapped his arms around himself and closed him eyes. With Dean at his shoulder keeping watch, there wasn't much that he couldn't handle.

TBC