A/N: This fic has been begging me to write it ever since I saw this episode, because I always wondered where the Impala was?? So, now you'll find out. And it gave me a chance to be a little lighter, a little fluffier for the boys in this one, because it's going to get bumpier, folks. You know what they say? It's always darkest before the dawn. Well here's a little bit of light for now....Sabbath style.

Big thanks as always to LovinJackson for her help. And a big thanks as well to PlatniumRoseLady for all her kind words and friendship. This one's for you guys....

xxxxxxxXXXXXXxxxxxxxx

A set of brown eyes ticked towards the clock again, watching, waiting. The hands hadn't shifted much further than the last time he had looked. A miserable sigh of air huffed out of the mouth before the head dropped back down again.

Alone. Again.

It sucked being alone. Surrounded by strange smells and familiar ones all at the same time. The room smelt weird. Mildew and take away food. Carpet deodorant and an underlying scent that showed the last person to have lived here? Was apparently a smoker.

But beneath all that, drifting out from the bedroom, was the more familiar scents of leather and denim. Cheap washing powder and clothes that hadn't been washed in a long time. The scent of Sam. But not the Sam he should be. This Sam was a stranger. He acted different. One half of a team that was missing the other.

Sabbath huffed out another sad breath and looked at the clock again. It wasn't time yet for Sam to come home from wherever it was he went now in those clothes that were all wrong for him. Gone was the flannel, the t-shirts that were wearing thin from one too many attempts to wash blood out of them. The hoodies and denim jeans that Sabbath was accustomed to seeing and smelling.

Now it was shirts of a colour that looked strange on Sam. Pants that were too straight, too neatly pressed. He looked like the sort of people they helped…not like a Winchester at all and that was the problem, wasn't it?

Sam wasn't Sam. Something had happened without warning and Sabbath had woken up to find himself stuck with this strange NotSam. Dean was just…gone.

The Impala was still there. NotSam was the one driving it now. The backseat still had clothes in it that smelt like Dean. But there was no Dean and his absence had left a hole inside of Sabbath that couldn't be filled. No matter how the new NotSam tried to be nice to him. Buying him treats and trying to coax him from the chair near the door. Nothing would budge Sabbath until he had a reason to move. Until he heard the voice he was waiting to hear again.

Sabbath didn't understand why Dean would leave him? He had watched over Dean in the hospital until he was able to leave. Sat with him during the nights at Bobby's afterwards. Kept him company when Dean needed time away from the others. Time to be alone so he could show those cracks no one but Sabbath was allowed to see now.

And now Dean was gone.

His eyes ticked back up to the clock again. Sabbath had grown used to this cycle now. Spending his days sitting here, waiting for NotSam to walk in the door with another bag of take away that would be offered to him. Would be refused yet again.

Three times now, Sabbath had been taken to the vet by NotSam, who seemed to think that he was just pining for someone named Madison. Why would Sabbath pine for a stranger? Why didn't Sam remember Dean anymore? Why didn't Sam remember who Sam was anymore?

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxxx

The phone just wouldn't stop! Ringing and ringing…eating away at the corner of Sam Wesson's sanity. His life officially sucked. Well, if you could call it a life? Nine to five in Tech Support. Buried in a cubicle with no chance for escape unless you took a coffee break or had lunch…in the lunchroom. Day in, day out.

This wasn't living. This wasn't even really existing. It was stagnating.

Sam's eyes flitted to the offending phone again, narrowing at it slightly as his jaw began to set. On the other end of that line, some moron was hoping that Sam could save them from a tech problem that was currently the bane of their boring office life. He would be their hero…by telling them how to run the piece of crap they were wasting their lives in front of.

Sam had been a hero last night. He'd helped Dean Smith to take down a ghost. A ghost! Who the hell did something like that??

But the rush…man it had been such a rush! And for one short moment, Sam had felt like he had found his place in the world. That he finally knew what he was supposed to be doing! No more crappy job, no more wondering if he could patch things up with Madison. She was apparently out of the picture anyway. Even the phone number Sam had for her was bogus.

Which was just great. Stuck in a dead end job, in a crappy apartment that Sam was embarrassed to admit he rented while hiding his ex-fiancee's dog from the landlord. And how the hell had he gotten stuck with the dog anyway? It wasn't like it paid him any attention…just stared at the door like it expected Madison to walk back in. Yeah, right.

For one brief moment last night, Sam had felt something click within him. Like he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do. It had felt right to have Dean Smith beside him, the way he was in Sam's oh so twisted dreams. Until Dean had shot it all down and sent Sam on his way, back down the food chain again. Back to being a Tech Support guy in a job that was suffocating him.

Sam's hand was reaching towards the iron poker resting against the wall of his cubicle as he slid his chair back. He grasped it firmly as he stood up, before he brought it up and swung the poker as hard as he could at the phone still trilling for his attention. The first blow launched the phone off the table, cracking the casing.

But Sam didn't stop there. He brought the poker down again and again, harder and harder, until he had shattered the phone completely. Looking up at last, Sam could see dozens of eyes watching him, some in fear, others in disbelief. His chest was heaving from the exertion, but all Sam felt?

Was at peace at last.

" I quit." Sam shrugged, turning and walking towards the exit. Screw it. He'd find another job, another apartment. Or maybe a house with a yard for…Sabbath?

Cogs were churning, things falling into place as Sam rode the elevator down to the parking level he had left the Impala on. By the time the elevator doors slid open, Sam was already fumbling for his phone, his heart racing in his chest.

Dean, Sabbath…how the hell could he have forgotten who they were? Who he was? What the hell had happened to him?

Sam's fingers were already hurriedly trying to pull up his contact list, when the phone began ringing, startling him. Pressing it to his ear, Sam reminded himself to breathe. "Dean?"

"Sam? Where the hell are you?"

"Parking level 2...where the hell are you? Are you okay? What do you remember?" Sam demanded.

"Everything, dude. Where the hell is my car? Where's my dog, Sam?" There was panic in Dean's voice now.

"Dean…Dean! Take it easy. Meet me out front…okay?"

"Fine…move your ass, Sam. I want to get the hell away from this place…"

Sam hung up, agreeing with his brother completely on that one. He jogged over to the Impala, running a hand over her sleek lines, grateful that she was looking the same as always. One less thing for Dean to be upset about.

Sliding behind the wheel, Sam pulled out of the garage a moment later, letting the tyres squeal as he hurried to meet Dean. He found his brother standing impatiently by the curb out front of Sandover Bridge and Iron.

"Dean!" Sam called out, opening the passenger door to his brother. And it felt so good to say that. How could he have ever forgotten that he had a brother?

Dean slid into the Impala and closed the door, already running one hand over her dashboard while the other reached out to turn on the stereo. Immediately, the sound of ACDC's Sink The Pink filled the car and Dean let out a slow breath of sheer relief. "Dude…what the hell?" He looked at Sam, clearly happy to see his brother sitting beside him.

Zachariah's conversation upstairs was still running through his mind and Dean knew that he had just been thrown out of the frying pan and right into the Apocalyptic fire, but all he needed right now, was to get himself back to normal.

Out of these clothes, some real food in his belly.

The Impala was already swallowing up the streets with a hunger akin to Dean's and he arched an eyebrow at Sam. "I'm guessing you know where the hell you're going?"

"Yeah. My place."

"Your place? Wait…as in your place? Where you've been living?"

"No, Dean. As in my dream home. What do you think?" Sam snapped, rolling his eyes.

"I'm thinking I'm not the only one who's craving a cheeseburger right now, bitch."

Sam looked at Dean, one eyebrow lifting. "You're kidding, right? Dean…I'm going to get Sabbath."

Dean's eyes widened. "Sabbath? He's been with you? Son of bitch! I figured they'd left him with Bobby." His mind was racing then, trying to recall how long it had been since the Angels had dumped him into this craptastic version of a life. "Is he…he's okay, right?"

"Dude…I know how to take care of a dog." A flash of irritation crossed Sam's face. Yeah, he'd been able to look after Sabbath, but it hadn't been what the dog had wanted. The dog had been pining for Dean all this time and Sam hadn't even known. " Who's they anyway?"

"Huh?" Dean had been watching the world slide past them outside.

"You said you thought they'd left Sabbath with Bobby…who's they?"

"The Angels."

Okay, Sam hadn't expected that one. "Cas did this?"

"No, not Cas. His boss, apparently. Zachariah. Had a lesson for me to learn. Man, I'm so sick of all this crap. Being shifted around like freaking pawns, you know?" Dean groused, noting that the Impala was slowing down and pulling up to a set of apartments that looked like they might have been nice once…in the nineteen fifties. "Dude, here?"

"Not everyone got to live the corporate life, Dean."

"Maybe God has a sense of humour after all?" Dean popped the door open and climbed out. Sam followed suit, looking at his brother over the roof of the Impala.

"Meaning what?"

"Dude, you were the one that always believed in the big guy, not me." Dean cast a glance to the run down apartments. "Come on, you gotta admit, it's a little funny…"

"Whatever, dude…just remember who got the Prius…Jerk." Sam shot back with a smirk. "Come on…this way."

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxxxx

Footsteps approached the front door.

Sabbath's ears sat up a little, detecting the approach of NotSam. He looked at the clock, wondering why NotSam was home so soon?

But then Sabbath picked up the second set of footsteps, a stride that he knew anywhere because he had followed it all his life. Sabbath was up and off the chair in a flash, rushing the door and scratching at it. Whining and barking, desperate to get out through the door to the voice he could hear now.

A voice that had been missing for too long.

The door opened at last and Sabbath didn't hesitate. He launched himself, bowling Dean over backwards and lavishing him with wet, slobbery kisses as his tail almost wagged itself off.

Sam stood in the doorway, laughing at the sight in front of him. He'd never seen such a change in the dog. It was like the life had suddenly come back into Sabbath and a part of Sam was hurt that he wasn't the one who had the dog's devotion. But there was no way he would ever deny Dean a moment like this. This was why Sam had brought home the puppy in the first place. So that he could see Dean laugh, see him forget about every for a moment.

"Hey…hey, I've missed you too, you big lug." Dean laughed, scruffing his hands through the thick fur on Sabbath's neck before he hugged the dog, not caring in that moment that he was being a complete girl or that he was covering what was probably once an expensive suit, in dog hair and slobber. "You okay? You been taking care of Sammy for me?"

Sabbath barked in answer, his tail still whipping back and forth. Whatever had happened, whatever had taken Dean away…it was over. Everything was back the way it was meant to be and Sabbath just wanted to run circles around the man before him, he was so excited.

"I'll grab my stuff and we'll go, Dean." Sam said, already disappearing into the apartment. He picked up his duffel bag from the corner of the bed room, pulling out a t-shirt and jeans. Stripping off the awful clothes he'd been wearing for far too long and putting back on his usual sort of clothes, feeling more like himself immediately. Sam was having some words to Castiel when he saw him next, whether the Angel was involved or not.

Once he was sure he had everything he needed, Sam slung the duffel over his shoulder and headed for the front door. He barely made it halfway across the apartment, before a heavy body slammed into his chest and the duffel bag was sent flying. Sam crashed onto his back, the air exploding out of his lungs as he found himself being licked half to death by a half grown German Shepard.

"Sabbath…Sab, hey…get off me." Sam laughed, throwing his hands up to try and end the tongue bath. He gently pushed Sabbath back, watching as the dog suddenly dropped his head to his front paws while his tail end stayed up in the air. The whole dog was quivering with excitement before he barked at Sam loudly, then bounded over to the duffel bag and grabbed the straps with his teeth. He started dragging the bag towards the door as Dean looked at his brother and laughed.

"I think he's trying to tell you to haul ass, dude…"

"Right." Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Cheeseburgers… I got it." He reached out for his bag, only to find that Sabbath bounced out of his reach and continued out the door with it. Whatever had happened…it seemed that Sabbath was happy to see Sam too. And that was enough for Sam.

He closed the apartment door behind him, not even bothering to lock it. Heading out to the Impala, Sam could see Sabbath fighting to walk with the bag still firmly in his teeth, following Dean's heels the way he always did.

Everything was where it should be again…