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Dean looked up as Henrickson moved over to them, blood running down his face from a wound on his forehead, his shoulders shuddering as he panted from their rushed escape.

"Dean, we can't stay here. They won't be stuck in there forever - they'll find some way out."

Dean swallowed hard, realizing that he had become the leader here. But, although Henrickson's panicked words were beating down on his ears and he knew he had to do something, he couldn't tear his eyes from Sam's lifeless face. His brother's porcelain skin looked almost translucent in the darkness, dark blue smudges vivid under his eyes. Dean kept one hand clenched tightly over Sam's shoulder, as if afraid that if he let go his brother might dissappear.

"Dean, did you hear me? Dean!"

Henrickson's hand closed over his arm and Dean looked up, binking. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Uh... you got cars? Not police ones, they could track them, just normal cars."

Henrickson nodded. "Round in the back, where we put yours."

Dean rose to his feet, clenching his fists to stop his hands from shaking. "Okay... okay... come get one and then follow me out."

"Where're we going?" the other officer - Phil Amici, was that his name? - asked shakily.

Dean shook his head. "Just get the car," he muttered.

He turned to Sam and bent down again. He pulled Sam up with him, pulling away when Nancy reached out to help. He just couldn't let anyone else touch his brother right now, not after this.

After he turned into a demon right in front of me...

Stop it. Sam wasn't a demon. He wasn't evil. And he never would be.

Dean began to move towards the impound lot, Sam dragging beside him. Henrickson nudged Phil and then ducked around Dean, striding ahead of them all towards the lot. Phil hesitated, but then followed him. Nancy remained beside the Winchesters, lingering to match Dean's slow progress. She was chewing on her lip, and looked like she wanted to say something but kept biting her words back. Finally, as they reached the end of the building, she couldn't hold herself any longer.

"You sure you don't want any help?" she asked.

"Yah," Dean panted, his legs shaking slightly as he stepped forwards.

Nancy hesitated, and then took Sam's other arm and pulled it over her shoulders. Dean shot her a glare.

"I said I got him."

"No you haven't, we're moving too slow and you know it," she replied calmly. "Its okay, I'm not gonna hurt him."

Dean snorted under his breath but didn't pull away. With Nancy's help, he reached the impound lot in only about a minute. Henrickson was leaning into a pickup truck, looking at something on the dashboard.

"Its got more than the others," Phil was saying. "Just take this one. Jesus, Henrickson, we don't have time to be picky."

Henrickson looked up and caught sight of them as they made their way over to the Impala. He nodded and sat down in the driver's seat, reaching out to close the door behind him. Phil climbed in on the other side.

Dean reached the Impala and jerked his head at it, tightening his grip on Sam's shirt. "Get the back door," he told Nancy shortly, not caring if he was being polite or not.

Nancy ducked away from Sam and pulled the back door open before standing back to give him room. Dean pulled Sam around so that his brother was in front of him, then leant into the car. He put one knee on the back seat so that he could get in further and laid Sam down across the leather.

"I gotcha, Sammy," he whispered, gripping Sam's arm. "I'm gonna fix this, I swear."

He pulled back out of the car. Sam was so tall that he had to swing his legs in afterwards, leaving them to twist of the seat slightly. Dean shut the door and headed around to the driver's seat. He got in, and then looked up as Nancy slipped into the passenger side.

"What the hell are you doing? Go with Henrickson."

"And what if you need help on the way?" she shot back. "I'm staying with you guys."

Dean opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. He wasn't going to waste time arguing with her. Shaking his head, he started the engine and pulled out of the impound lot. He heard the roar of another engine as Henrickson followed him. As he turned onto the road and accelerated, he raked his brains for somewhere safe they could go, somewhere he could protect Sam and have people he could trust to help them...

I need Dad.

He didn't have Dad. But he had the next best thing...

"Where are we going?" Nancy asked hesitantly.

"Bobby's," Dean murmured. "We're going to Bobby's."

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Nancy could feel her eyes drooping, but she fought them open again. They had been driving for at least an hour, and she was beginning to feel the exaustion from the long day she had endured. She allowed herself to lean against the window, the cool glass calming against her forehead. She had no idea who Bobby was, or how far away his home was but Dean seemed to be intent on going there. Maybe this Bobby knew some way to help Sam...

She glanced over her shoulder at Sam Winchester, lying still and pale along the back seats. She could see small pinpricks of sweat standing out on his forehead, and his eyes were clenched shut so hard that it must hurt. She wanted to do something to help him, but she doubted that Dean would allow her to do anything more. He was so protective. And, even if he wasn't, what was there that she could do?

Dean heaved a deep sigh, and Nancy glanced at him. His face was lined with strain and anxiety, and his knuckles were white as he clenched the steering wheel. She wet her lips, and then spoke before she thought of a reason why she should stay quiet.

"Do you think we should call Bobby before we get there?" she asked. "You know, just so he's expecting us. You might want him to get a bed ready or something..."

Dean glanced at her distractedly. "Yeah... I guess..." He pulled out his mobile and pushed it at her. "He's in my phone book."

She took the hint and began to scroll through his contacts. She reached 'Bobby' and pressed the green button to call him. The mobile rang for a few moments before a gruff voice answered on the other end.

"Dean?"

"Uh, I'm Nancy," she said, unsure of what to say.

Bobby's voice went wary and guarded at once. "Where's Dean?"

"He's right here, he's driving."

"Tell him we're heading to his place, that something's happened to Sam and I don't know what to do," Dean whispered, his eyes fixed on the road in front of him but somehow staring through it.

"We're heading to your place," Nancy replied, repeating Dean's words. "Something's happened to Sam and Dean doesn't know what to do."

"What's happened? Is Sam hurt?"

Nancy glanced over her shoulder at Sam's still form. "I'm not sure," she said. "We're coming to yours now."

"Where are you?"

"Tell him an hour's drive away," Dean muttered.

"An hour's drive away," Nancy repeated.

"Okay. Tell Dean to hang in there, whatever's wrong we'll work it out." Bobby hung up.

Nancy lowered the mobile and passed it back to Dean. "He says hang in there, he'll work it out," she told him.

Some of the tension in Dean's face eased slightly, and he nodded. "Thanks, Nancy." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "How's Sam? I can't see him properly, he's too low."

Nancy twisted to look at the younger Winchester again. He looked worse than when he had been at the police station, and she could barely see his chest moving. She swallowed hard.

"He looks good," she whispered.

And somehow, that was worse for Dean to hear than if she had told him the truth. Because he knew she was lying.

And he knew what that meant.

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By the time they reached Bobbys it was the early hours of the morning, and Dean's body was aching from the fighting earlier that night. All he wanted to do was go somewhere where there was no worry, no panic, no frickin' destiny hovering over their heads. All he wanted was for Sam to be safe.

He turned into the Singer Salvage Yard and stopped the car. Lights were flooding the driveway, so Bobby was expecting them. Dean climbed out of the Impala, Nancy moving to join him on the other side.

"Go knock on the door, tell him we're here," Dean told her.

She nodded and moved towards the house. He made a mental note to thank her later for being so understanding, for obeying him without question when he needed her to, for arguing with him when he wasn't listening. He pulled open the door to the back seat and crouched down beside Sam for a few moments.

"Sammy?" he asked. "We're at Bobby's. We're home. Listen, man, I really need you to wake up now. I'm scared. I need you to wake up and explain this whole messed up thing for me. Please, Sammy?"

Sam didn't stir.

Dean dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, taking a few moments to push back the tears of weariness and panic that threatened to fall. Then he rose to his feet and pulled Sam from the car. Sam fell bonelessly against him, and he struggled to support his brother and close the door. He heard the roar of an engine and glanced over to the gates of Bobby's yard to see Henrickson turning into it. The officer nodded to him before driving away into the maze of rubble to find a place to park. Dean slammed the door shut and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders, fisting his hand in the back of Sam's jacket. He looked up to see the door opening and Bobby pulling Nancy inside, muttering to her intently.

"Okay, little bro, we're heading in now. You don't think you could gimmie a hand, huh?"

Nothing. Dean took a step towards the building, Sam lolling at his side. He had just got a metre away from the door when he heard running footsteps behind him and Sam's weight eased slightly. He glanced over to see Henrickson taking Sam's other side, and this time he was too bone weary to protest. Bobby appeared in the doorway agian, and then pulled out of the way. His eyes flickered to Phil and Henrickson.

"You brought cops here?" he asked incredulously.

Dean shook his head. "They know," he replied flatly. "They're on our side now."

Bobby's eyes turned to Sam, and a father-like worry leapt into them. "Shit, Dean, what happened..."

It was hardly even a question as Bobby stepped forwards to take Henrickson's place on Sam's other side.

"We'll take him to your room," he said, maneuvering both Winchesters towards the stairs. Dean knew without asking that he meant the room he and Sam had stayed in since they were little.

"Stay here," Bobby called over his shoulder to the others as they mounted the stairs. "And don't touch anything, got it?"

With Bobby's strength and help, they got up the stairs and down the corridor beyond them quickly. By the time they moved into the small room with two beds set against opposite walls, Bobby was doing most of the work. They deposited Sam on his usual bed, and Dean sank down on his knees beside his brother.

"Dean..."

"I's sorry I brought them here," Dean mumbled. "I know ya don't like cops... they were with us..."

"Its okay, Dean," Bobby told him firmly. He touched the older Winchester's shoulder. "You should get some sleep, you look like hell."

"Later."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby muttered. "I'll be back in a minute. I'd better get those cops settled somewhere before they start sniffing around for drugs or something..."

Dean hardly heard him. He leant his elbows on the bed and looked down at his brother, swallowing hard.

"Its all gonna be okay, Sam," he promised softly. "I'm gonna get you through this. You'll be okay."

He reached out a hand to brush Sam's hair away from his forehead.

And, so soft and weak that Dean thought that he might have imagined the sound, Sam moaned.

Yeah, I know, evil cliffie! Same as before, if you're getting bored just don't leave a review and I'll stop writing. If you like... well, go ahead and press the button!

SUPRNTRAL LVR.