Pre-bla-bla: Sorry this chapter took so long. I was kind of stuck in the middle of it and I suck. Anyway ^^ it's finally here. Nothing really to say apart from maybe a reminder that this is NO Wincest, so please don't freak about one scene (you'll know when you get to it). Furthermore I know this is pretty heavy Dean POV at this point, but that's because I am hoping that the state Sam is in remains kind of a mystery to you readers. Well...at least I hope so.

And THANK YOU for all the wonderful reviews for the last chapter. They REALLY REALLY are appreciated!

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Chapter 2

"Son of of a bitch!" Dean presses out through clenched teeth after Castiel has vanished into thin air. But his anger is short-lived. Not a second later his injured arm screams in protest when what feel like 300 pounds of little brother are pulling him to his knees.

"Argh, shit. Sam?" He gasps out, trying to ease his sibling's fall while going down himself. Sam's eyes have fallen shut and a thin layer of sweat is covering his almost white skin.

"Sam!" The older Winchester shouts again, shaking the limp body in his arms. Panic is starting to blur his vision as his fingers fly to the younger man's throat, frantically searching for a pulse.

"Come on, come on!" He grunts out, pressing harder into Sam's carotid. Time seems to slow down, moving thick like molasses while he wills his own racing heart to just shut up. His entire being is focused on the clammy skin beneath his fingertips. Too cold, he thinks when he notices the lack of warmth coming off his brother's unresponsive form.

"Come on, damned it!"

And there it is. A slight flutter against his fingers, too weak for comfort, but constant and there. Relief hits him like a punch in the gut, pushing the air out of his lungs in an audible swoosh as his head drops bonelessly to Sam's shoulder.

He really needs a drink.

"Dean?" Bobby's close-by voice startles him, makes him aware of the unguarded position he is currently in. With a slight cough he straightens up only to find his friend kneeling right next to them, concern and fear deepening the wrinkles on the older man's face.

"He's okay. Just passed out." Dean's voice is a little breathy and he has to blink his eyes a couple of times to clear his vision, but Bobby graciously doesn't comment, simply nods and stands back up to give him a second to compose himself.

"We better get moving, son. His majesty might have a change of heart and come back for a second round of smiting." The older man points out, blue eyes already searching the surroundings for something to use as a stretcher.

"How?" Dean shoots back. "In case you've forgotten, my car is literally head over wheels and I doubt we'll get reception out here to call for a taxi."

"Well, unless your brother suddenly learned how to fly, Vegas' money is on him having hot-wired one of my cars to get here. So stop whining and get your ass over here to help me."

They are covered in sweat when they reach the street. Sam is a big guy and carrying him would have been a challenge even on their best day. With Dean injured and both of them tired and sore it proves to be nearly impossible.

"Okay, break." Bobby gasps out when the crashed Impala comes into sight.

"Yeah." Dean pants as he lowers his side of the makeshift stretcher to the ground. Pain shoots through his shoulder at the awkward angle. With a curse he lets go, flinching when he hears the metallic thunk the stretcher makes as it hits the gravel a little more forcefully than planned. Bobby is by his side in a flash, one hand on his chest to steady him on his feet.

"You alright?" The older man's brows are scrunched up in concern and not for the first time Dean finds himself wondering whether he and Sam are responsible for most of the creases Bobby's face has gained over the past couple of years.

"Peachy." he bites out, shrugs the hunter's hand off while trying to catch his breath.
"We'll get it looked at later." the older man suggests, but Dean's attention has already shifted towards the Impala, or what's left of her anyway.

Noticing the pained expression on the younger man's face Bobby follows his line of vision and sighs.

"She has had worse, Dean." he reassures, even though looking at the wreckage it's hard to believe. The windows are busted, not to mention the clearly dented if not broken roof. There is no way of telling whether the engine took a hit until they get the car back on it's wheels, but at least the undercarriage and frame seem intact.

"Look, we'll pull her back to my place and you'll have her up an' runnin in no time."

"Yeah..." Dean mutters preoccupied, clearly taking stock of the damage himself.

Bobby's eyes trail from the wreckage back to Dean cradling his shoulder and Sam, who is still out for the count. They are all in bad shape. He himself is aching all over from being thrown down the flight of stairs. It's short of a miracle none of his bones are broken. Right now he wouldn't mind having his loathsome wheelchair within reach to fall into and never get back up again. A bottle of Scotch would do, too, but the cupboard where he keeps the good stuff hidden from the boys is miles away.

He takes off his hat and carts a hand through his sweaty, thinning hair while turning his focus towards the pitch-black road they are on. The still burning headlights of the Impala are the only reason they haven't broken their ankles in the darkness and there is no way of telling where Sam parked his ride.

"Listen." He finally says, surrendering to the fact that even though he is almost twice Dean's age, the boy is in far worse shape than him. "I'll walk up the road, try to find Sam's car or at least some reception. You stay here and take care of your brother till I get back, alright?"

Dean follows his gaze up the road. With a lingering look down at Sam's limp body he nods, even though the gesture seems a little reluctant.

"Yeah, alright. Just...if you run into anything holler or something. We don't know if Crowley still has his lackeys out."

With a final nod Bobby puts his cap back on and starts walking.

The oldest Winchester watches him for a couple of seconds before sitting down next to his unconscious sibling. Sam's complexion is still a little ashen, but his breathing is steady and strong. Dean's fingers resume their position on the younger Winchester's throat, taking comfort in the reassuring thud-thud.

The night is quiet apart from his heavy breathing and the fading noise of Bobby's boots on gravel. It seems almost peaceful. A world oblivious to the events that went down not even an hour ago. Dean scrubs a hand over his face and wishes he could at least sometimes be part of that innocence. But he realised ages ago that he doesn't belong to that world anymore. Even staying with Lisa and Ben for one year hasn't changed that. While being with them he felt disconnected, misplaced. Like taking part in a play he didn't know the lines to. Maybe if he had gotten out of hunting before the whole apocalypse business hit the fan things would be different. He doubts it, though. Even back then he had seen too much, known too much to play house and pretend the eyes in the shadows watching his every move weren't there.

No. He is right where he deserves to be. Right at the center of a screwed up existence where even your best friends can turn on you so fast it makes your head spin. And people wonder why he and Sam are as tangled up in each other as brothers can possibly be.

A low groan pulls him from his dark thoughts. His eyes dart back towards his sibling's face.

"Sam?" he asks full of hope, bending forward when he sees the younger man stir. Dazed eyes slowly open and blink sluggishly up at him.

"D'n?" Sam's voice sounds like shards of glass scratching against each other, rough and dry, but Dean can't remember hearing anything more comforting. A small smirk curves his lips upon watching his sibling rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey there, buddy. Nice nap?"

Sam just grumbles in response and Dean feels his chest clench at the normality of the action. It's almost like any other morning in some run-down motel room. That is, if he ignores the hard gravel digging into his legs, the throbbing pain in his shoulder, an angel gone rogue and the fact that Sam just had the wall inside his head torn down. So yeah. Just another day at the office.

He is right there when Sam starts to push himself up on his elbows, one hand on the young man's back to help him into a sitting position. His relief immediately transforms back to worry when he notices the deep lines of pain between his sibling's eyebrows.

"You alright?"

"I...I think so. Man, my head is killing me." Sam mutters, fingers digging into the bridge of his nose. A surprised chuckle erupts from Dean's throat, earning him a bitchface he almost wants to take a picture of to stick to his dash. And judging by the unbelieving look Sam throws his way his elation seems to be written all over his face. But it's true. He'll take a 'migraining' and pissy little brother over a comatose one any day.

"Dean, where are we?" The younger Winchester asks as his glance scans their surroundings for anything familiar. Dean has barely opened his mouth to answer when a visible flinch goes through the young man's body.

All of a sudden Sam's eyes widen. It looks almost comical, slack-jawed expression and everything, if it wasn't for the sheer panic painted all over his face. Alarmed the older Winchester spins around, gun in his hand, ready to fire at...nothing? His eyes search the empty air for some kind of a threat, but there is nothing there. Just him, Sam and the car. Confused Dean turns back to his brother. The young man's chest has started heaving with panting, swallow breaths, glance fixed on something behind Dean.

"Sam?" he asks in bewilderment, turning around one more time, just to make sure. Zilch. Hastily stuffing the gun back into his pocket he grabs a hold of the younger man's shoulders.

"Hey, talk to me, what's going on?" Dean's worry spikes up another notch when he notices the tension in his sibling. The muscles beneath his hands are strung so tight he is afraid one of them might give.

"The...the Impala." Sam whispers in between wheezing breaths. "I...the crash and..." His face white as a sheet while the words start to tumble out of him. Dean's head whips around, taking in the wreckage his brother is apparently staring at.

"Sam, calm down. It's just a little dented. I'll fix her, alright?" Gravel bites into Dean's knees as he shuffles in front of his brother, trying to hide the car from his sight. "I'll fix her, I promise. I...Sam?" The last word comes out as a surprised squeak Dean won't admit to in a hundred years. He is suddenly sitting on his ass, huge paws pushing his jacket apart to pat frantically across his torso.

"What the hell are you..." he starts to say, but Sam is already talking again, words pouring from his mouth in a speed Dean can barely follow.

"You were bleeding, where is all the...I saw it, you...where..."

"Sam, slow down!"

"Why aren't you bleeding? You were hurt and then the car and I and where the hell is..."

A loud slap brings everything to a stop.

Dean's hand tingles from where it connected with his brother's rapidly reddening cheek. A little shocked by his own actions he stares up at an equally frozen Sam.

"I said, slow down." He finally grinds out with all the authority he can muster, considering the slight tremble in his voice. The sheer amount of confusion and almost childlike outrage shining in his sibling's eyes is startling and unexpected as hell, but having one of them freaking out is more than enough. Calming Sam down is the only way to get any answers to the many questions burning in his mind. With a composing breath he leans forward, hands resuming their previous position on Sam's shoulders.

"I am okay, you hear me? No blood, no nothing, alright?" He can practically see the wheels turning in Sam's head as his glance dances back and forth from Dean to the Impala. The young man's brows pull together in confusion, but before he has the chance to utter any protest Dean is angling his head back towards himself, catching his eyes with his own.

"No one got hurt. I am fine and so is Bobby."

"B-Bobby?" Sam stutters out, looking even more confused than before.

Right on cue the sound of crunching gravel can be heard as the seasoned hunter pulls up next to them. Dean sits up, blinking owlishly into the bright light of a single headlamp glaring down at them. The driver door creaks open, quickly followed by hastily approaching steps. Not a second later Dean has to dodge backwards to avoid being smacked by an elbow as Bobby envelops Sam in a tight hug. The youngest Winchester lets out a startled gasp, before hesitantly returning the gesture.

"Damned it's good to see you back with the living, boy." Bobby says upon pulling back.

"Th-Thanks, I guess." Sam stares at him in wonder, eyes searching the older man's face like he is seeing him for the first time. Dean is grinning like an idiot, especially when he notices the usually reserved hunter's brain catch up with his own actions.

"I'm also fine Bobby, thanks for asking." he proclaims in false annoyance, earning himself a slightly relieved glare for saving the situation from turning awkward.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably Bobby straightens his hat and tips his head towards the still running car.

"We'd better get a move on."

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Tbc

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And there it is. Chapter 2 ^^ I hope it was varied and interesting to read. So if you like or dislike things about it, or have ideas what is going on with Sam, please let me know! *waves with imaginary chocolate cookies as reward*