Ruby met them in the Ambulance Bay, standing by the back door of the rig, arms folded across her chest. To Dean's delight she looked haggard, despite the usual cocky smirk. She didn't say anything, just opened the door when they approached. Bobby introduced them and Missouri wrinkled her brow.

"You a demon?"

Ruby looked taken aback for a fraction of a second, then her eyes swept over Sam to Dean, eyes casting daggers in his direction. "Can we get Sam in and get the hell out of Dodge already?"

"I can read you like a book, girl," Missouri bestowed her a side-looped smile. "And no, Dean didn't tell on you. No love lost between the two of you, I guess?"

Dean couldn't help smirking in the divested demon's direction. Ruby had finally lost the superior smirk. "Don't mess with Missouri," he quipped while he pried Sam's fingers loose.

Sam's eyes were closed and he shivered under the quilts.

Bobby muttered for them to stay focused but Ellen didn't need instructions, she had the gurney on the metal rails like she'd ever done anything else in her life. Bobby huffed only once when he had to lean all his weight to get the gurney to slide in place and secure it.

"Take a seat, Dean, you look beat." Ellen nodded to the gurney on the other side of the rig.

"But -."

Missouri grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him inside. "Bobby's taking care of you car. He's gonna be driving a mile or two ahead, just in case there's trouble. Sit! Ellen, can you please take care of this one, I need to tend to Sam. No, you can't take care of yourself, Dean, now hush!"

Dean had forgotten that dear old Missouri read thoughts from a mile away and realized it was going to be a hell of a trip, whichever way you looked at it.

The fact was confirmed when he noticed rain drumming against the windshield as Ruby pulled out of the building. A girl behind the wheel, a big-ass rig and slippery roads. His brother on a gurney and no fricken food in sight.

"I'll give you old! Stop complaining; Ruby picked up food for you. You've got a reputation, son." Missouri growled and leaned in over Sam. "I know it hurts, I'm gonna give you something to take the boo-boos away as soon as I've listened to your lungs. Why? Because you can't mix all meds with all kinds of ailments. I gotta check that your lungs are still clean and not clogging up. No sweetie, Dean is fine, his knee got banged up but they fixed it, he just has to go easy on it for a couple of weeks. You go to sleep now sweetie, you're just not thinking clearly. I'll tell you everything when you can put two and two together."

Dean smirked; this was priceless! Sam being babied would give him mocking ammunition or a life-time.

Ellen draped an ugly orange blanket around his shoulders and stuck a takeout bag in his hand. It promised greasy heaven. He smiled gratefully at her and dove in. French fries, and tacos with a helping of extra fried onions. He didn't bother with the plastic fork, this was what fingers were meant for anyhow.

Missouri looked at him while she retracted the syringe from the IV-port. "Like he's never seen food before in his life," she told Sam in a commiserating tone. "Never have I seen a taco vanish that fast. And I've seen plenty. That one can't be easy to keep fed and happy."

Dean tried to swallow what he had in his mouth to protest at the constant jibes about him and food.

Sam turned his head and Dean was sure there was a beginning of a leer behind the oxygen mask.

"What?" Missouri looked at Sam, stunned for a moment before she let out a pearly laugh.

Dean blinked rapidly and Missouri reached over to ruffle his hair. "Aw, sweetheart! Sammy will be just fine. Dont'cha worry about a thing. I used to be a nurse a long time ago, got tired of the Docs pinching my butt. Don't you laugh, Dean Winchester, I too was young once."

"Hmph," Dean replied around the last of his onions.

"No, not a century ago and yes, they had modern equipment at the time. Now take your meds and get some sleep or I'll just have to spank yah!"

Ellen laughed out loud and Dean bristled at always ending up the butt of the joke around Missouri. The woman sure had it in for him. He downed the pills with a swig from the offered bottle. He had to remember not to think too much and tick Missouri off.

"Now look ladies, and I'm using the term loosely, I get it that you like to boss -."

Missouri rose, swaying with the constant movements of the rig and glared at him. "Take off your shoes before you lie down, young man."

"I'm not gonna -." Dean was cut short when Missouri simply wrestled him down, pulled off his boots and and draped the blanket around him. Muttering about smart-asses needing to wash their mouths with soap.

Dean curled up on the hard stretcher, not quite catching himself before he silently cussed her out.

"What was that?" The woman towering over him asked.

"Nothing." He peered up at her and politely added, "Ma'am."

Missouri chuckled happily when she swayed over to the chair placed at the head-end of Sam's gurney and dimmed the blazing light into a mellower, orange glow.

Dean looked over at his brother and caught what definitely was something of a smile. Sam looked calmer now, more at ease. His brow was still creased with pain but his eyes didn't hold that black despair any longer. He wasn't quite able to meet with Dean's gaze, it was obvious that he had to strain himself to keep his eyes open. But he definitely was more aware, more Sam than he had been just a few hours ago. Enough of a pain in the ass little brother to fucking grin while Missouri tormented his awesome big brother. Oh, he was so going to get Sam yet. As soon as the jerk was back on his freakishly big feet, he'd get him.

He didn't want to stare at Sam's face, just in case Missouri found out, and gave him hell for not trusting her. So he kept his eyes on the one monitor Sam was connected to. It gave a soft beeping sound with every breath Sammy took. Orange numbers showing what Dean assumed were Sam's pulse and the level of oxygen in his blood. The beeps were safely regular and the numbers never strayed far. His brother was hanging in there, like the trooper he'd always been. This time he'd let the geek bitch, pout and whine all he wanted, as long as he came through this. He'd even let Sam drive for an entire week.

Dean's eyes started burning, the numbers swam in and out of focus in the semi-darkness. The lids of his eyes got incredibly heavy and he decided to give them a rest.

Just for a while.

Sam woke from a ringing sound close to his ear. He was all wet from sweat, and someone was definitely trying to choke him. The feeling of lacking air had him strain to get up and away from the thing on his face. The movement had him gagging.

Dean was in his face, looking wild-eyedly at him, pulling him up to a half-sitting position. "What the fuck, Sam?"

And Sam started coughing, eyes watering when his windpipes convulsed and liquid rose up in his nose and throat, blocking the air totally.

Dean looked at him, and there was that fear that Sam hated again. He tried to stop the ridiculous gasping for air and wheezing, tried to get away from Dean and not scare him.

"Lay him on his side, Dean." A female voice ordered and Sam felt himself being pushed down, his head hanging over the edge, Dean's hand on his forehead, keeping his face from crashing into the metal bars under the gurney.

"Ellen, get the Salbutamol, 5 ml and 3 of Epi, push it before this poor baby coughs his lungs out. It's gonna be okay Dean, just hold him like that and don't let him fall on his face. Now that would be a pity. Hold this in case he throws up."

A sickly yellowish container was stuck under his face and he could clearly see Dean's hand trembling even through the tears made everything swim around him. Someone patted his back and he winced and heaved, wishing he'd hit the basin and not Dean's socked feet.

"Dude!" Dean was trembling all over when Sam finally got air back into his lungs. He was lying limp, like a dead fish, wishing the ground would swallow him up.

Something was draped over his nose and mouth and air flooded his lungs, making him breathe easier.

"S'okay Sammy, you needed to get that from your lungs. All's gonna be better now. We'll get the fever down and Dean here can stop sweating bullets. We better get the nasal-canula on you, Sam. Much more comfortable now that you've coughed it all up, sweetie. I just ventilated you to get your breathing back to normal. Dean, put it on him when I get him up, will you, hon?"

The mask was removed and Missouri pulled him up and draped him over her shoulder, talking to him like he were a helpless infant. And the ground still refused to swallow him up.

"Take a napkin and wipe his nose, Dean."

Sam felt his face go red-hot when Dean looked at him, eyes still crazy and hands shaking when he ineffectively smeared the snot over his face. Sam glared at his brother, promising him a gruesome comeback when this was all over.

"Oops," Dean let out with a half-assed grin. "Sam, you're getting too old to pull these pranks. You fishin' for sympathy?" He looked at the tube that Ellen handed him, studying the item like it was a tool of mass destruction before he taped the canula under Sam's nose. "You nearly killed me, you sonuvabitch! Don't fucking ever do that again, jerk!"

"Watch your language," Missouri warned.

Sam coughed only once when he started laughing, draped over Missouri's shoulder like a beached whale, half hysterical and mortally embarrassed. Ellen's cool hand cupping the back of his neck, twitching just a little.

"Man, what is wrong with you?" Dean asked fretfully, squatting to catch his eyes. Dean looked at him like he had reached a whole new level of weird.

Sam felt Missouri pat his back and chuckle. "Sam's right you know, your onions do stink up the place enough to make people sick."

He lifted his head to look at Dean and grinned at the dumbfounded look.

Dean sank to sit on the gurney, hiding his face in his palms. Shoulders still shaking. "You're such a fudgin' ass, Sammy!"

Sam reached out with his good hand and punched his brother's shoulder amicably.

When dawn finally broke and they neared the state border; Dean was still feeling nauseous from what he had witnessed. Having been medicated and babied, Sam had finally fallen back asleep, the wheezing sounds having calmed considerably. Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep in peace again. Ellen sat down by his side, serving him coffee out of the thermos, but he was in no mood to chat. His head ached, his knee throbbed and his heart was constantly flip-flopping in his chest at every little sound Sam made. He doubted Sam could take three days of traveling, he doubted he'd sustain it himself.

"Dean," Ellen started, her voice suddenly stern. "You did the right thing, you know that! Leaving Sam in that hospital was not an option. He's safer here."

Dean turned his head to look at the woman beside him. "If that was Jo lying there, would you be as stoic about all this? Sam almost choked, Ellen! He has a fever that won't break and we're out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere with demons, and probably the State Police, hunting our sorry asses. Chances are that we'll be arrested for Grand Larson and Sam'll get shooed off to another hospital with us ending up in the slammer. What you going to tell the nurses, to salt Sam's room while we get indicted?"

"You're painting the devil on the wall here, Dean," Ellen watched him intently. "Ruby took care of the ambulance theft, she's good. She got genuine plates and all the paperwork we need. There's no way for anybody to track us."

Dean snorted. "She told you that?"

Ellen nodded and poured some coffee for herself just as her cell-phone beeped.

"Well demons lie, you of all should know that." Dean replied, watching how Ellen's face fell.
"What?"

She shoved the filled mug in Dean's hand and rose, making her way to the front of the rig.

Dean followed, swaying when Ruby hit the brakes hard. Coffee spilled over his hand and he cursed until the rig came to a standstill. Ruby looked over at him, her face suddenly drawn as Ellen quietly conferred what she was hearing over the phone. Judging by the tension in the air, it was not about candy being handed out for free.

"What?" Dean repeated, his irritation growing.

"There's a slight problem up ahead," Ellen admitted, avoiding to look at Dean. "Bobby picked up on the police-scanner that they are looking for us. And apparently there's a unit catching speeders a couple of miles from here. Bobby just got fined."

"You said you took care of everything," Dean closed in on Ruby, his fists clenching.

"I did," Ruby stated calmly. "You didn't. No-one signed Sam's release papers and obviously, the private clinic he's going to doesn't exists. So they're still legally responsible for his well-being. They kind of want him back since they can't find anybody to dump the responsibility on. Meaning that they don't have anybody to bill if things go south. Sam would have known this. You Dean, messed up."

Dean felt cold shivers run down his spine. He'd never even thought about it, and he should have.

"Ruby," Ellen warned. "Ease up on Dean. He wasn't in the best of shape when it all went down. I should have thought of it, but I didn't and now it's too late to go back and fix it. What we need to do is decide if it's worth the risk to stay on the interstate or get off and around the cops?"

Dean nodded in agreement. "We can't risk Sam getting holed up somewhere without protection." He looked out the windshield, trying to figure out where they we're at, if escape was even possible? It wasn't like they could ditch the rig and drag Sam over the fields. "We need to get off this road, have to find something less trafficked and keep under the radar."

"I know this place west of here, hundred miles or so. It's a couple of hunting cottages, fully equipped and probably empty this time of year. We can always squat. But the road up there is one long stretch of potholes, and how Sam's gonna sustain that trip -." Ruby shrugged and let her voice trail off.

"Tell Bobby to bunker up with food for at least a week," Dean ordered and turned to get to Sam. This was so not what they needed. Hanging out in unknown terrain, like sitting ducks, was still preferable to anyone taking Sam away.

"You're not serving him up to someone for your own benefit, are you?"

Ellen's paranoia had obviously kicked in.

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence." Ruby snarled, giving Ellen her best, 'die and whiter' glare.

Dean seated himself at the edge of Sam's gurney, looking forward for a scratchy, hair-pulling cat-fight. He'd put a fair amount on Ellen whipping Ruby's ass. At least he hoped it would end that way.

"So how come you conveniently enough know of a place nearby?" Ellen insisted.

Missouri reached over and whacked Dean over the head. "Ellen, she's been around for centuries, I guess you stash a lotta knowledge like that when you roam around the country that long. And you, young man, need to get your head outta the gutter!"

"Ouch!" Dean rubbed his head and muttered well chosen words in Missouri's direction. The two ladies in the front of the rig both glared daggers at him and he took a swig out of the now half-empty and lukewarm coffee in the cup. How come he always ended up the bad guy? If Missouri found out he'd splashed coffee on the floor, she'd have him clean the whole rig with a toothbrush.

"Get back to you on that, " Missouri told him, on cue.

Sam moved and he turned to look at him. Bleary eyed and sniffling, his sibling tried to get up. Dean put a hand on his chest and kept him down. Sam huffed indignantly, reaching out with his hand for leverage. The stubborn ass did struggle until he was up on his elbow and Dean sighed and bent to rise the head-end of gurney. Then Sam detected the coffee cup in Dean's hand and damned if he didn't apply the puppy eyes from hell.

Dean shook his head in a determined 'no'. Sam's lower lip trembled and he let his eyes wander from the cup to Dean's face and back again, in full begging mode.

"No," Dean snarled, casting warning glances in Missouri's direction.

"Dean, please," Sam mumbled, snot running from his nose, eyes peering from under the mussed bangs.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean sighed and handed the cup over. "Just one sip or I'll fudgin' tell on you and let Missouri have her way with you."

Sam coughed and spit out the coffee on Dean's shirt. Dean looked dejectedly at his sibling and wiped his pain in the ass brother's nose and mouth with his already soiled sleeve.

Looking duly chastised, Sam handed the empty cup back. Dean looked into it and furrowed his brow. "Which part of 'one sip' did you miss, you dumb-ass?"

Sam's face scrunched up in, what Dean supposed, was a smile.

He reached out to adjust the canula under Sam's nose, watching him, relieved at how much better he seemed. Sam was still hot to the touch but he'd regained his bitch-face awfully fast. But thinking about what a bumpy road might do this his fresh incisions and broken bones gave Dean cold chills. He'd read the chart and knowing the extent of Sam's injuries nearly sealed the deal and just about sent him to the funny-house. Watching his brother was enough for him to second-guess his decision every time Sam inhaled raggedly. Having read the medical charts had him nauseous at the thought of what he was putting Sam through.

"Dean? Wha's wrong?" Sam's feverish eyes were trained on his, investigative as ever.

The cardboard cup got squashed in his hand, reduced to a wrinkled memory of its old self. "You're asking me? I'm not the one with tubes stuck into me."

"Dean!"

He'd ever been able to fool Sam, not really. There was something about his brother that always made Dean tell the truth. Even if he tried to avoid it, Sam would just look at him and he'd have to cave. "There's been a change of plan," he started cautiously, hoping Sam would be too wiped out to nag him into going into details.

"Don't make me beat it outta you!"

The words may have sounded threatening without the wheezes. He turned to look at the silly geek and the moment their eyes met, Dean new he'd lost. Sam's eyes were dark, and the fear lurking was not for himself but for everyone else. And it would get worse and worse if he didn't have the intel.

So Dean told him, watching from the corner of his eyes, how his brother's eyes darkened with resolve. When he finally had laid it all out, he was glad that Sam wasn't exactly fit to go a twelve rounder with demons of any kind. Still Dean knew he would, because it was back; the blank gaze that killed without hesitation.

And it scared him to see Sam like that. "Go to sleep you freak," he ordered, watching how Sam valiantly fought to stay awake but finally had to cave.

Dean lowered the head rest back to horizontal before he rose to get more coffee from the thermos. If there wasn't any left, he'd be seriously pissed.

It was still raining outside when Sam woke. This time there was no question where he was at. No clawing though blackness or cobwebs to reach the surface. The pounding in his head had him alert at once.

Sam listened to Missouri's and Ellen's voices in the front of the rig. Missouri's haven gotten a new edge, higher pitched, when she struggled to keep up a light conversation about the scenic views they passed. Missouri Mosley was scared, doing her best to hide it and Sam wondered what she was sensing.

They had reached the dirt-road and Sam felt it in his bones. He tried to stay quiet and steel himself from the pain even if it felt like every dip of a wheel was a stab and a tear. He had been an ass, growling at the very people wanting to help him. But in order to protect them, he had to distance them. If Dean would just stop watching his every move. It was damned near impossible to keep anything from his brother, and now he needed to make a plan and execute it in order to control the situation. He'd let his guard slip in the woods and Dean had the marks to prove it, as had he. It was an inexcusable mistake, and he wouldn't let that happen again. Then again, how many times had he promised himself exactly that and still he kept failing?

He turned to his side, trying to relieve the pressure in his chest, not exactly sure if it really was from his injuries or from the guilt. Either way, it was choking him and the whine that escaped him didn't pass Dean.

His brother watched him from the other side of the rig, the crease on his brow deepening. "Hang in there Sam, another couple of miles only. Or at least that's what the bitch behind the wheel claims."

Sam threw a tired glance in his direction. Dean's regard for Ruby was not exactly growing as they rolled forward. Instead it seemed to escalate with every mile and Sam was sure it would end up with some kind of monumental blow-up between the two of them.

"You two really should work this thing out. I think you'll run short of insults soon. You're already kinda repetitive if you ask me."

Dean glared at him. "Oh, excuse me for lacking in the creative rudeness compartment. I'm sure you have a couple up your sleeve to help me out. Oh no, I forgot, she's your new best bud."

Sam just let that slide, having long since learned not to pick certain fights with Dean. This was one better left alone. He eased himself up into a sitting position, aiming for the plastic bag at the end of the gurney. Wondering how out of it he had really been not to have spotted his clothes before now? How much else was he missing? He didn't even remember how he'd gotten into the sweatpants he was earing, obviously someone had put them on him at some point. But damned if he remembered. And the blank spots in his recent memory bothered him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean asked.

Sam finally found something that looked like one of his old shirts and pulled it out and slanted a glance at Dean.

"Your fever up?" Dean was at his side, trying to do his best impression ever, of not worrying.

"Nah," Sam shook his head, trying to sort out the garment with one hand only. Which proved to be an endeavor. "Just need to get ready."

"Ready for what, Sam?" Dean's voice had gotten that edge again, the tone dancing between anger and exasperation, sliding from a grumble to a sigh in four mere words.

Sam didn't have anything to say; he'd had no explanation when it came to this particular state of mind. It didn't hold words, it held nothing but the basics for survival. He looked at his brother, met his gaze but had to look away at the intensity of Dean's prying eyes. "I'm not sure," he admitted quietly.

"You don't need to always be on red alert, Sammy. You're fucking starting to scare the crap outta me with this shit you're pulling!" Dean rose to his feet, grabbing the shirt and pulling it out of Sam's hand.

"What? Nothing wrong with being decent. Dean, please, chill." Sam replied, looking at his brother who was rapidly nearing the boiling point. Sam knew he was putting Dean through too much for anybody to handle right now. This was probably the stupidest thing he had done, ever. Right now he needed to be on his feet, finding solutions and not laid up like this, another burden on Dean's shoulders.

"Chill? You're telling me to chill?" Dean finally exploded. "You have a nail in your collarbone keeping it in place, multiple ribs broken, one of which poked a hole in your lung causing some fricken hemopneumopleuro-shit that is lethal!"

"Dean, I'm fine! You're gonna hyperventi-," Sam interjected fretfully.

"Shut up! You shoulder was dislocated, several bones in your hand had to be surgically set and you have a concussion and you tell me to chill?"

"Dean, please!" Sam watched how Ellen and Missouri lined up to watch the show.

"You stopped breathing in the car, Sam. Your heart stopped! You fucking died on me, all over! The whole shebang. You just don't do that, not ever again, you copy that? You went blue on me, dead, you get what that means? You collage educated dumbass?"

Sam gripped Dean's arm, trying to pull him down to sit before he'd keeled over as the rig slowed down.

"You almost coughed a lung up last night and now you wanna get dressed and take on demons? Right now a demon just has to sneeze in your direction and you'll go down. And if you go down now, you're not going to rise again, I can tell you that much, even without the cereal MD! What the fuck is wrong with you? You need to rest and recuperate, you need to trust me, Sammy. You're not alone in this!"

Dean yelled the words and Sam caught his brother's eyes, wondering how deep the denial reached? Had he really pushed what was about to happen so far back that it wasn't even registering? Sam winced at the words. In a couple of months, Dean would be gone if Sam didn't find a solution. He had to swallow thickly, the nausea back at the mere thought.

It was Dean who had to look away this time.

Without a word he slipped the IV-bag through the sleeve before he eased the shirt up Sam's arm.

There were no more words spoken between them while Dean helped Sam get into the shirt. Sam felt the familiar pain in his chest return and this time he knew it wasn't a physical pain, but something deeper and darker.

There was commotion in the front of the rig; Ruby had joined the other two, watching them with a mixture of surprise and interest. Ellen and Missouri looked more concerned, glancing at each other for clues. Missouri let her gaze rest on Dean before she spoke: "Bobby's bringing lunch."

Dean sank to sit at Sam's side, deflated. "Yippee," he let out with a derisive snort.

"You okay Dean?" Sam asked cautiously, hoping not to provoke another meltdown.

"Shut up." Dean's voice was low and trembling as he spoke; his hands resting on the knees, face turned to the floor. The curved back tensed.

And Sam didn't know what to do to help his brother. He was at a loss as usual and he hated it with every fiber of his being. Looking at the women still watching them, he met with Missouri's concerned gaze. It was apparent that even she saw that Dean was falling apart but had no aid to offer.

Sam leaned back to rest against the metallic wall, chest feeling painfully tight again and cold sweat running down his temples, burning in his eyes when he watched his brother.