The wind chilled Angie to the bone. Her motorcycle wasn't exactly the most practical mode of transportation, but she loved it so she endured the cold. Her numb fingers squeezed the throttle tightly as she trekked on.

Dean was taking the main roads while she did the side roads and alleyways, but so far no Sam. Angie was lost deep in her own head as she searched, she replayed her conversation with Dean over and over, wondering if she could have handled thing better, said things differently. She assumed she could have, but then again, things hadn't gone that bad. She hadn't made much progress, but Dean would come around soon enough. She knew he would, he had to, for Sam.

Just then a dark mass laying in the shadows of a narrow alley between two building caught her attention. Her brakes squealed as she clutched them urgently in order to make the turn. She skidded to a stop right next to the mass, which she could now identify as a human body. A big body and there was only one person she knew who was that big…Sam.

She hopped off the bike and crouched down near his face. He wasn't looking too good. His face was swollen, a large purple bruise dominated the left side of his face, the bruising on the knuckles of his right hand let it be known that he had put up a good fight too, his nose was bleeding and there was a good amount of blood all around his mouth, but Angie assumed most of that wasn't his. His chest was shallowly raising and falling so at least she knew he was breathing, that calmed her moderately.

"Sam! Sam, wake up!" she yelled as she used her frozen fingers to gently smack his face.

Nothing. No response at all. He was out cold.

She stood over him from a moment contemplating. He was nearly a foot taller than her and about twice her weight as well, even if by some miracle she was able to get him onto the back of the bike she would never be able to balance him there while she drove. She had to call Dean.

That was exactly how she hadn't wanted things to go. She had hoped to find Sam, fully functioning, on her own and drag his ass back to her apartment in any way she could. Once there they would sit and wait for Dean and when he finally gave up on his search he would return and she would be able to say 'Thought you didn't need any help? Sam and I have been waiting for hours.' She chuckled at the thought, it would serve that self-righteous ass right. But that plan was shot now and there was nothing she could do about it.

She pulled her phone from her coat pocket and called Dean. She gave him quick directions of where to find them and hung up.

Dean sped the Impala into the alley just minutes later. He barely gave the car time to stop before jumping out.

"What in the hell happened to him?" he asked as he approached Angie.

"Looks like the demon he nibbled on wasn't so willing to be a snack, knocked him out cold."

"Ugh," Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, "just help me get Sasquatch here into the car. We'll take him back to your place, it's closer."

"Sure," Angie agreed, quite surprised at Dean's willingness to include her in anything.

She grabbed Sam around the ankles while Dean supported his shoulders. Even with team lifting moving him was no easy task, but they got it done and laid him in the back of the car.

"See you there," Dean said as he made his way to the front and got in.

Angie got back on her bike, started it up and followed suit.

Sam was still out when they reached Angie's apartment so it was up to her and Dean to transport him yet again. Getting a two-hundred pound man out of a car proved to be even harder than getting him into one. Anyone who might have been watching the scene unfold would have certainly gotten a nice laugh out of it. Dean had had to crawl through the backseat, pushing Sam out as he went while Angie pulled him by the feet until finally all of him was out and Dean had him by the underarms.

They got him through the door and as far as the couch. The bed probably would have accommodated him better, but the couch was closer so that's what he got.

A winded Angie made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Got anything stronger than that?" Dean asked, joining her in the small kitchen.

"Sure. Beer or whiskey, pick you poison."

"Oh, it's a whiskey kind of day, no doubt."

"Little early for such a strong drink, don't you think?" she teased as she pulled the bottle out of the cabinet.

"Just pour the damn drink."

She poured the amber liquid into a tumbler and Dean instantly downed it. It burned his throat, but it was a good burn and it quickly warmed the rest of his body too.

Angie just shook her head at him and asked, "So what now?"

"Now you're going to stay here and babysit Sammy while I go back to the motel and pack up our stuff. Then I'll come back here and we'll work on our plan. You win, okay. I can't do this shit anymore."

"Alright," she agreed, trying to hold back the triumph in her voice. It was hard to enjoy her victory when Dean sounded so defeated.

"Don't overestimate your role in this," Dean continued, "I could do this without you, it would just be harder and I'm tired of doing things the hard way. Don't make the mistake of thinking I trust you either. I don't, but I'm really not asking all that much of you right now. I just expect to come back and find my brother still here and in no worse condition than he is now."

"I can do that," she assured him as she refilled his glass.

He quickly downed his second shot and left.

The instant he was in the car he started second guessing himself and wondered if he was doing the right thing, leaving Sam there like that. For them, especially as of late, it was hard to tell what a person(or thing's) motives might be. For all he knew Angie's intentions could have been the opposite of what she claimed. Maybe what she really wanted was to push Sam even further to the dark side and this would give her the perfect opportunity.

No, he couldn't think that way, Dean convinced himself. He would never be able to let anyone in if he kept letting his trust issues rule him. No, this was going to be different. This time he was going to trust Sammy and he was going to let this girl help them because Sam thought it was best…even though they had no reason what so ever to trust her.

These things weighed heavily on Dean's mind as he drove back to the motel and while he packed once he got there.

Packing was even more tedious than usual when he was the only one there to do it. When it came to clothes he and Sam traveled light, very light - a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts and a pair of boots each did them just fine. The less laundry the better. Not that they had the cash to spend on extra clothes any way, 100% of their income came from hustling pool or the occasional stolen credit card. And that money, what little of it they came across, went to gas and weaponry.

Which is what took up most of the packing too. Various guns, ammo, knives, trinkets and tons of rock salt all had to be stored away in their proper places in the trunk of the Impala.

Then there was all of their research. While they were staying in a place research tended to take it over, papers being pinned to every available wall space and then strewn across the floor as well. When it was time to leave it was crucial that everything got filed away, they never knew when they might need the same information again. And of course nothing could ever, ever, be left behind. Imagine a cleaning lady stumbling across their notes on all the encounters they'd had with demons and spirits and anything else that went bump in the night, it wouldn't be pretty.

The clean up of such sensitive materials was usually Sam's job, but Dean did the best he could with it. Okay, so maybe it wasn't as tidy or organized as it might have been if Sam did it, but it was done.

The room was emptied out and Dean could go make sure his brother was still in one piece.