Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural or its characters. I and am not making any money on this…I'm just having fun filling in the time!

Summary: WARNING SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 – story takes place after 4.17. Missing scene between the hospital and the boys showing up at Sandover—what happened in between?

Raven524: Of course I couldn't resist wondering what happened in between 4.16 and 4.17. Obviously Dean was healed so there had to be some angsty moments that led up to the boys current predicament. Oh heck, it just give me a chance to indulge in a little Sam and Dean angst! In a way, this is a sequel to Man Down—I just couldn't leave it there.

Lost Hunter

"Then you're screwed…I can't do it Cas, it's too big." Dean paused before he continued. His voice laced with pain. "I'm not all here—not strong enough. I guess I'm not the man either of our fathers wanted me to be—find someone else—it's not me."

The air left Sam's lungs as he leaned against the wall. His proud brother was completely broken. How was he going to help him now? He'd given up. Sam listened to the soft sobs as his brother continued to break. He knew this was something Dean would never have told him. He had to get it together. He took a few more sips of coffee until his hands were steady. He schooled his features and entered the room. He wasn't surprised to find Cas gone.

"Dean?" Sam said softly, ignoring the hurried wipe of tears from his brother's face. He wouldn't mention it, he'd let Dean come to him this time. "Are you okay?"

There was a pause as Dean closed his eyes. For a moment, Sam thought he was going to go back to sleep until he heard a broken reply. "No Sam, I'm not…"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

One Week Later…

Sam hung up the phone after talking to Bobby. Their old friend had suggested he bring Dean to the house to let him recover from the damage but he declined the invitation. While Dean had healed physically, it was clear he was still not in the game.

After Castiel had left, he tried to talk to Dean, get him to see that none of this was his fault. But his big brother had closed down. He ate only when coaxed, spoke only when asked a question and was pretty much just existing. The spark that had been his big brother was gone.

"Don't worry Dean, I've got you…" Sam said as he stroked the steering wheel under his hand. He had found them a small cabin not far from the hospital. One where he thought they could rest up and maybe give his big brother the time he needed to find himself again. Dean had not given up on him after Jessica, after Madison—and after the episode with Meg, his big brother had yanked him back from the well of despair he was drowning in. "I won't let you give up Dean, you can't give up…"

With a soft sigh he parked the car outside the entrance to the hospital. Dean was being released today and he should be happy, but he was worried. His brother hadn't been the same since his return from downstairs. It was time he concentrated on helping his big brother find his way back. The demon war could wait this time—Lilith would be there when they were ready. A few moments later found the youngest Winchester outside the now familiar hospital room. He paused as he heard his brother's voice.

"I can do it myself, stop treating me like I'm gonna break Bridget."

"You know you can't bend over yet to reach your feet Dean—now stop acting up and let me help you get your boots on before your brother gets back…"

"Too late!" Sam remarked as he entered the room. He laughed at the tug of war going on with his brother's boot. The small nurse had a death grip on it while his brother was trying to pull it from her grasp. The glare Sam received had him moving to help the young nurse.

"Thanks Bridget, I think I can handle it from here." Sam gently took the boot from her hand and watched as she turned to leave.

"Just make sure he doesn't overdo it. Those ribs aren't healed yet." Bridget paused at the look she got from the oldest Winchester. "I'll be right back with your wheelchair…"

"I'll be so glad to get out of this freakin' place." Dean said as he reached for his boot. Sam just shook his head and helped him put it on. Before Dean could react, he found and placed the other boot on his brother's foot. He looked up and saw the lost look on his brother's face.

"What?" Sam asked quietly.

"You don't need me anymore Sam. Why don't you just drop me off at Bobby's and go meet Ruby." Dean's voice was quiet, his eyes downcast.

Before Sam would have reacted differently, but now he heard the defeat in his brother's tone. "We're a team Dean, I'm not leaving you." Sam said fiercely. "I've found us a cabin not too far from here. I thought we'd take a few days and regroup."

"Sam—I—I—don't think…" Dean stopped as the wheelchair entered the room followed by the tiny nurse.

"That's your problem Dean—you think too much." Sam replied before he pulled the wheelchair over towards the bed. "Hop in—the Impala misses you man."

A small grin lifted Dean's lips. "You didn't put an Ipod back in her did you? 'Cause if you did, busted ribs or no—you're going down Sam."

Sam shook his head as he wheeled his brother from the hospital. A few moments of arguing over Dean's ability to drive left his big brother situated in the passenger seat. Sam jumped in and started the engine. He slid one of Dean's favorite cassettes in and headed out. He glanced over and saw his big brother had already nodded off. "You just rest Dean—we'll figure this out…"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dean sat in the old rocking chair outside the cabin. He could hear Sam chopping wood in the back, another chore his little brother had insisted on doing. Since they had arrived a few days ago, all Sam did was mother hen him. It was getting old, but for some reason he couldn't find the energy to object. It was all too much effort. Some days, it was all he could do to get out of bed.

But he did it for Sam. His brother was trying so hard, it was almost comical. He'd become a shield against the world for him. He still remembered the argument Sam had with Bobby yesterday. Evidently the old man had found a hunt in Ohio. But Sam had refused point blank. He also couldn't help notice the odd symbols painted all over the cabin. He knew some were to repel demons, but the rest? He had a feeling the rest were to keep out their friendly neighborhood angels.

Deans thought circled back to his discussion with Cas. It hadn't surprised him that Uriel was a traitor. He never liked the He-man wannabe. Of course, part of that was because of his constant threats to both him and Sam. But he'd always sensed something was just a little off with the angel. It was why he'd asked him to leave the room before he agreed to torture Alastair.

His hand rose to his throat. Alastair, Sam had told him the demon was not just banished but dead. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful. But how had Sam managed to get strong enough to kill? Sure Sam insisted it was because he practiced, but something didn't ring true. Dean sighed, he was so tired of the lies, the half truths—all of it. Sam, the angels, demons—all of them only telling him enough to worry him; to scare the crap out of him. They all treated him like he was stupid, like he was weak…

He could hear his brother's grunts as the ax hit the wood. It sounded like Sam was working out some of his own frustrations. He knew some of what Sam had said while under the Siren's spell was the truth. He was holding Sam back, but not to hurt him. How could he make his brother understand something he didn't? He couldn't give his little brother a concrete reason for not using his powers other than it 'felt' wrong.

Sam's remark that he wasn't as good of a hunter anymore also hurt, but it was true. His mind wasn't in the game anymore and neither was his heart. The first rule of hunting was to keep your mind on business. Sam was doing it, but him—not so much lately. He was just trying to figure out why he'd been brought back. The angels were looking at him as some kind of hero, the only one who could save the world. But how could he? He'd been unfocused during the torture of Alastair, his hesitation is what cost him his latest injuries. If he'd been paying attention, he would have noticed the demon getting free and stopped him.

"You're thinking too much again Dean. Here…" A cold bottle of beer slid into his hand. He looked up at his sweat drenched brother and nodded his thanks before he took a sip.

"So what're you thinking about Dean?" Sam asked casually as he sat down on the steps.

"Nothing Sam, I'm fine…" Dean tried but even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"No you're not Dean, but I'm willing to wait until you're ready to talk. I know you think I don't care Dean—I've failed you on so many levels…" Sam's eyes filled for a moment as he looked away. Dean wanted to reach out and tell Sam that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't. The truth was, some of it was his baby brother's fault. The way he had been acting, doing things behind his back…"

"I know you think you can't trust me anymore and if you want me to leave, I'll do it. But you have to ask me to go Dean—I won't leave unless you tell me you don't want me around anymore."

"Sam…" Dean started but his brother wasn't finished.

"I heard what Cas told you man. I heard about the starting of the whole apocalypse thing and that's just crap. You don't have to do this alone. I've been practicing and I think I can take her on now—we have a chance to stop this…" Sam stopped and looked up with a pleading in his eyes that before Dean never would have been able to resist.

"You see Sam, that's the point. You can stop this, not me. I don't have anything special. Maybe Uriel had it all wrong, maybe God does want you to use your powers to fight the demons. But I can't help what I feel Sammy. My gut tells me what you are doing is dangerous…" Dean stopped when he saw the slumped shoulders of his brother.

"Look Sam, all I'm saying is they got the wrong man when they pulled me out of the pit. I'm no hero, hell I'm not even sure I'm a hunter anymore. I'm just tired…" Dean sighed as he stood and began to move back inside. Suddenly the warm air outside had grown cold. He jumped as a hand grabbed his elbow.

"Don't Dean. Don't you say that. You're not a quitter. You're a Winchester and we don't quit remember?" Sam's voice was thick with emotion.

"I can't do it anymore Sam. I can't be what you and Cas want me to be. Maybe I wasn't meant to do this after all." Dean turned and entered the house leaving his little brother outside.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sam threw the empty beer bottle out into the yard. The sound of breaking glass echoed the broken man inside the cabin. He'd tried being patient, he'd tried talking but Dean just didn't get it. Sam stared out into the setting sun. He had to show Dean he still needed him, that his brother still was the best hunter he'd ever seen. His thoughts ran back to the phone call from Bobby the previous day. Maybe the older hunter was right—they needed to get back to doing what they did best together.

Sam pulled the phone from his pocket. "Hey Bobby, can you send me that stuff on the hunt in Ohio? Yeah, Sandover Bridge and Iron?" Sam nodded as Bobby agreed to send him the information. Before he hung up he promised their old friend that Dean was doing just fine and he meant it—because one way or another, Sam was going to get his big brother back.

He entered the cabin and wasn't surprised to see Dean sitting in the overstuffed chair by the fire. His gaze riveted by the flames. Sam shivered as he saw the flames reflected in the darkness of his brother's eyes. It was almost as if his brother had returned to hell already.

"Hey Dean—are you sure you're feeling better? I mean, your ribs don't seem to be bothering you anymore…." Sam sat in the other chair and watched as Dean pulled himself back from where he'd been.

"I'm fine Sam. I've been telling you that for days now. Why?" Dean watched as Sam fidgeted before looking up at him.

"Bobby has a hunt for us—I told him no, but if you're up for it. I think we should take it…" Sam said softly.

"No Sam…you can go if you want, but I don't—you can handle it…" Dean sighed. Sam could see the defeat in his brother's shoulders but he couldn't let him give up.

"No, I can't Dean. I need you to back me up on this one. Look, just help me out with this hunt and I'll drop you off at Bobby's afterwards. We can use his house as a base of operations. Remember, Dad's rule—never hunt without backup?" He hated pulling the Dad card but he needed to convince his big brother to come along. He wasn't sure why, but he felt it was important.

"Like he ever followed his own rules…" Dean gazed back into the flames. "He went to hell without backup, look how well that worked out. But then I guess he didn't need it—he couldn't be broken." Sam heard the pride and the guilt in his brother's voice.

"Dean, you know demon's lie. How do you know Dad was even on the rack? The bastard was just playing with your head. For all we know Dad broke down the first day he was there. Hell Dean, no one can last against that kind of torture—no one. But I do know this—Dad would be disappointed in you now. You're giving up…" Sam was surprised at the quickness of his brother's moves as he pulled him up by his T-shirt and shoved him onto the floor. He could see the anger in his brother's eyes as his fist clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"Don't you say that—don't you dare talk about him like that…" Dean panted as he tried to reign in his emotions.

"Then prove me wrong Dean—come on this hunt with me…" Sam waited and smiled as he saw his brother give in.

"Fine, but I'm driving this time…" Dean whirled and headed to their bedroom. A few minutes later, he returned with his duffle. "Then you can drop me at Bobby's house Sam because this will be my last hunt!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sam looked over at his big brother as they snuck into the museum room of Sandover Bridge and Iron. Three more people had died before they managed to figure out it was PT Sandover's ghost doing the damage. He watched as Dean pulled what they needed from their ruck sack.

"You just gonna let me do all the work or you gonna give me a hand Sam." Dean's voice echoed in the quiet room. He was still dressed in his office clothes. Sam had suggested they get real jobs at the company. Dean found it funny that he'd ended up in management while Sam had been put in tech support. And of course, the names his brother had come up with, Dean Smith and Sam Wesson—it still made him smile. At least part of his brother had remained in tact. Sam looked down at the yellow polo and khaki pants. He couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and change after this was over.

"No, you're doing fine. Why don't you break out the glass and we can burn the gloves and get out of here." Sam responded as he grabbed the shotgun and stood guard.

Dean just shook his head as he grabbed the iron poker they had brought with. He pulled back and quickly broke the glass. As the last shard fell, Sam felt the air around them thicken. He could see his breath just before the ghost of P.T. Sandover appeared behind Dean.

"Dean drop!" Sam yelled as he pulled the gun up, but the spirit was too fast. His brother was sailing across the room; his head hit the wall with a resounding thump before he fell senseless to the ground.

Sam aimed the gun and fired a shot that dispersed the angry ghost. "Dean!" Sam yelled as he rushed towards his brother, but before he got two steps he felt himself pulled around and tossed against the other wall.

He blinked as the ghost approached him, his face waving in and out before it was replaced with someone he'd only recently met…"Mr. Adler?"

A finger touched his head and Sam's world went white….

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dean struggled back to awareness as he watched the figure crouch over his fallen brother. "Sammy!" Dean yelled as he pushed himself up. He stumbled towards the middle of the room and quickly grabbed up the shot gun. As he took aim, he became confused. "Who are you?"

"Just someone who wants to show you who you really are Dean Winchester…" Mr. Adler moved closer, a smile on his face.

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean raised the gun; his eyes gleamed with worry and anger.

"I just reset the clock a little Dean. I need you to understand something. But you refuse to listen, so I'm taking another approach…" Dean stepped back as the man moved closer.

"Stay away or I'll shoot!"

"Go ahead Dean, it won't hurt me…" Dean pulled the trigger anyway before he stepped back. The figure in front of him didn't even flinch. So it wasn't a ghost. Before he could move, he felt a finger on his forehead and the world suddenly blanked out….

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The clock said 6:00 a.m. as Dean hit the alarm button off. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get to work on time. As he buttoned his shirt, he glanced in the mirror. He paused for a moment, something felt off, but then he shrugged and finished getting dressed. Twenty minutes later he was listening to the national public radio station in his brand new Prius.

"Today is going to be a good day—I can feel it!" Dean remarked as he smiled. For the first time in a while, he felt good about going to work. He glanced in the rear view mirror again and wondered about the gut feeling that this wasn't right. But soon the feeling was dispelled as he pulled into the parking garage of his new employer—Sandover Bridge and Iron.

The End