Sam woke up on the grimy couch of a derelict living room in a seemingly abandoned trailer on the outskirts of the park. He'd spent the afternoon watching carefully as the people went about their days, and he noticed someone picking up the mail outside of this one and bringing it back to her own home. A little careful listening, and he'd learned that the owner of this particular single-wide was doing a two-month stretch in jail on a weapons-related charge. Perfect.

Opening the bag he'd packed, he selected a few of the bills he'd saved. Sure, he was only 12 years old, but he could hustle pool better than Dean. Admittedly, that was probably because no one really expects a 12-year-old to hustle pool, but still. He'd also robbed the kids blind at his last school. What kind of middle schooler didn't know how to play poker?

He walked the short distance to the Country Store near the entrance to the park and did some grocery shopping. Spaghetti-O's, Funyuns, Count Chocula, Mr. Pibb. After some thought, he also got some milk and orange juice and a couple of apples.

Adding the container of salt didn't require thought. It was just habit.

The clerk looked askance. "This really what your mom wanted you to buy, buddy?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sam tried not to flinch at the mention of his mother. "Yeah," he replied somewhat defiantly. Then he added under his breath, "Mostly." It paid to act like a guilty kid. If they thought you were guilty of getting junk food, they wouldn't think you were guilty of squatting.

The clerk chuckled and took Sam's cash, adding a candy bar to the top of the bag before giving him his change. "I won't tell if you don't," he winked.

Sam smiled back and waved goodbye. Outwardly, he looked like a kid happy to get away with something. Inwardly, the clerk was on his watch list. He'd met enough creeps in his life to be careful around friendly adults.

…..

Dean bit the skin around his thumb nail and tapped his foot quickly on the wall he was leaning against. The pit that had opened in his stomach when he'd seen that open bathroom window had yawned wider and wider as the minutes ticked by. It was already 9:30, two and a half hours since he'd woken up, and he still hadn't found Sam. He'd done all he could on his own. It was time to get help.

"Dean!" Jim called from the door of the church. He smiled at the teenager who seemed more sullen and withdrawn than usual and waved him inside. "C'mon in!"

Wiping his hand on his slightly ratty jeans, Dean ducked his head and entered the stone building. There was something about churches that always creeped him out. Probably all of those dead people in the décor.

"I'm surprised to see you so early," Jim said when it was clear that Dean wouldn't start the conversation. "I figured you'd be sleeping after all of that digging you did last night." He paused, waiting for a response from the boy and then continued when none was forthcoming. "I appreciate you filling the grave back in like you did. Looks as good as new." Another sidelong glance. Another glance away by the teen. He could hold up both ends of the conversation as long as Dean needed him to. "Where'd you find sod at that time of night?"

"Pastor Jim…" Dean started, his voice raspy. He looked up at the priest with bloodshot eyes and a strained expression.

Jim, used to seeing troubled souls such as this, did what he did for his parishioners. He wrapped his arm loosely around Dean's shoulders and guided him through the church to his office. Settling Dean in one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk, he put a small kettle on to boil. He smiled kindly at Dean as the boy seemed to shrink into the upholstery of the armchair and waited patiently for the words to start. Most people began once the comforting warmth of the teacup was settled between their palms, but for some just the calm and quiet of the office was enough to make them open up. Dean was the latter.

Looking down at his shoes, Dean mumbled something that Jim couldn't understand. His shoulders slumped forward in defeat and his jaw clenched tight to clamp down on the tears threatening to spill out past his defences.

Jim patted Dean's shoulder and placed the cup of tea on the desk. "It's alright, Dean," he reassured him. It must be something pretty bad to get this kind of reaction. He thought of John, somewhere in the next state hunting down a cursed object and who knew what else. If anything had happened to him, he'd…

"I lost Sam," Dean whispered hoarsely, choking slightly on the last word. He felt Jim's hand on his shoulder squeeze as the priest swore under his breath. His teeth clenched tight once more to control the sob that was threatening to escape. He had to keep it together. Had to find Sam. Take all the hurt and roll it in a ball and stuff it down, down until he couldn't feel it anymore. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He ran away."

"Ran a-!" Pastor Jim started to shout and then caught himself. "Ran away? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Sammy not being there when I woke up!" Dean barked through clenched teeth. "I'm talking about him climbing out the bathroom window and stealing a car!" Even saying it out, he couldn't believe it. Sam had always been the good kid. The kid that parents liked and teachers loved. The kid that never got in trouble. The kid that followed the rules. Well, so much for that kid because apparently Sammy had changed. And now Dean was going to catch hell for it.

Dean stood up in a rush and pounded his fist on the table hard enough to make the teacup fall over, spilling hot liquid on the table and floor. "I'm talking about Sammy leaving me and not saying a goddamned word! Not a goddamned word." His shoulders shook and his jaw clenched but this time he couldn't hold back.

The only sound in the office was the dripping of tea onto the hardwood floor and the muffled sounds of Dean's sobs as he cried into Pastor Jim's shoulder.

…..

"Wow! How'd you do that?" Holly asked, staring at Sam in awe. He'd just managed to knock over six cans in a row using a homemade slingshot from 15 feet away.

"I dunno," Sam shrugged and looked down, wishing he didn't blush so easily. "Pratice, I guess?" He looked back up at her and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Teach me!" she ordered, her smile making her demand playful. Without waiting for a response, she ran over to the fence and set the cans up again.

Sam swallowed hard. He'd known lots of girls in lots of town in just about every state in the country, but this was the first one who really felt like a girl. He'd heard Dean talk about things that he did with girls, and it had always disgusted him. Now, though, he suddenly wished he'd paid a bit more attention. How did you talk to girl-girls, anyway?

"Um, sure?" he squeaked and then winced. Did she notice that his voice had just cracked? He cleared his throat and fervently hoped that it wouldn't happen again in the next sentence. "Have you, uh, shot anything before?" he asked, awkwardly passing her the slingshot.

"You mean like a gun?" Holly asked, already pulling back on the elastic and closing one eye to aim. "Nah. My dad won't let me til I'm older." She looked over her shoulder at the short young boy of about her age with the shaggy haircut and the too-big clothes. He was kind of cute. She wondered how long his family were camping at the park. "Am I doing it right?" she asked. This summer vacation might not be so bad after all.

Sam squinted at her hands for a moment. "Almost." He moved closer to her and, with a glance at her face to make sure she didn't mind, he straightened her aiming arm and lifted the elbow of her drawing arm. "You want to lock this elbow so that the rock flies straight," he explained. "If your arm is loose, your aim is loose." Bending down, he found a smooth pebble for her. "You want to keep your other elbow up so that you don't shoot low." He moved around to her other side. "Now line your thumb up with the can you want to hit." He watched her move her hand slightly. "That's right. You want to almost cover it so you can't see it." He nodded as she looked down her arm with one eye closed. "Alright, now breathe out slowly and then let go."

Holly let out a breath and shot the pebble out of the sling with surprising accuracy. She didn't knock the can over, but she did hear a ping as the pebble made contact and it wobbled slightly. Her whole face lit up with a smile and she jumped up and down in excitement. "I hit it! Did you see that? I hit it!"

Sam laughed and watched her joyful reaction. He remembered how he'd felt back when he was a kid and learning to shoot for the first time. He'd felt so cool. Just like his Dad. Just like Dean. "Nice one!" he congratulated her.

"How'd you learn how to do this, anyway?" Holly asked, already bending down to find another pebble.

Sam shrugged again. "I dunno." He squinted slightly and looked away. "I dunno."