Sam stared at the screen, the blue blip no longer moved, just blipped, marking the spot, so he stopped the car and leaned forward to peer out the windshield. There was no town, not one building, not even a fucking lamp-post. He growled, contemplating throwing his tablet with its flashing red triangles and blue blips out the window and stomping on it before kicking it to never-land. How did a person de-wing or do whatever the hell one did to incapacitate an angel? Oh, he knew how, he just…..wait…..what was that? He waited impatiently for the lightning to flash again…yup, there….. a wooden sign next to a turn-off. Sam wouldn't exactly call it a road, but yeah, the dirt, rutted lane was wide enough to maneuver a car down.

Teeth gritted, jaw clenched, fingers fisted around the steering wheel so tightly he was surprised it didn't crack under the pressure, he turned down the lane. He drove for about a half mile before the cars headlights cut through the curtain of rain to show a log shack – no, correction – make that a shed.

Oh. Good. God.

This was Cas's idea of a safe haven? Appropriate shelter? Acceptable accommodations? A one-room shack in the middle of god-damn fucking nowhere? Hell, Sam didn't even see power lines. He shifted into park, and consulted his watch, 3:37 a.m. Oh yeah, by now, he was having a full-blown, fuming fit. He took a moment to look around, twisting in the seat to look out all the windows. Nope, no power lines, no paved parking lot, not even a paved road. Hell, no sign of any road other than the muddy one he was parked on.

Great.

Well, there….that! That could be a wan light visible from a square window set high in the door. Course, through the rain and gloom, it could be his eyes playing tricks on him too. Well, four walls and a roof were better than the car, so might as well see what the interior of the shack had to offer. Leaving Dean in the car with it running, he slipped and slid in the rain, through the slop, across the mud, over the flooded grass and under a sign. He ducked under it, then backed-up, still stooped over to shine his flashlight on it so he could read it.

"River Lake Camp." he pushed his hair back. "Oh, you've got to be fucking with me!" not another campground, please no. He'd yet to hear the end of the last time he'd housed Dean at a campground. "Cas….I'll get you for this."

He mounted the wood steps that led to a small porch on what – upon closer inspection – could be described as a small, very small, cabin rather than a mere shed. Before he could do more than touch the door knob, the door opened from the inside and he was greeted by an elderly man dressed in a….boy scouts uniform? Yes, indeed. Oh boy.

"Well, good evening, young fellow!" the man boomed jovially, despite it being the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a freaking storm. "Come in, come in. Right nasty weather we're having, huh? Reckon I don't have to guess what brings you clear up here this time o-night in this weather, though I'll admit to being surprised they got cell reception out there."

"Uh." Sam used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. "What?"

"You're young one?" the door closed behind Sam and he immediately turned to open it, not wanting any obstacle between him and his view of the car. "I'm betting little Billy, am I right? Had him pegged for a Momma's boy, that one."

"Um….no….no. I'm sorry sir, what?"

"Call me Will." he held his hand out. "Pleased to meet you. I met most of the parents on drop-off day, don't recollect seeing you though. Step-dad maybe?"

Sam pulled it together and shook the man's hand. The one-room cabin boasted a pot-belly stove in the corner that, though small, warmed the room quite comfortably. As he looked around, comprehension dawned; smacked him right upside the head, struck him in the forehead, chucked him under the chin. A retreat, the small cabin, the man in uniform, the pictures and plaques on the walls, the ribbons and badges on every available counter space, the books on the tables, the magazines in the racks, the information pamphlets on display…..yup…..they were indeed at, none other than a Cub/Boy Scout Camp.

"Erhm….aah….no….no. We're…" he couldn't stop stuttering. "Is this a camp for Scouts?" he blurted out rudely. Could be worse, he thought, shoving irritably at his dripping hair, could be a Girl Scouts camp. He shuddered, and it wasn't because of the chilled air outside or the cold rain. No, it was over the thought of a bunch of pre-pubescent girls giggling and tee-heeing over Dean's green eyes and freckles or, God Forbid, the adult counselors and chaperones fussing over the milking-it-for-all-he's-worth little shit who would play-up his injury and illness to gain underserved sympathy and attention….

"Yessir!" Will beamed. "Right proud of it, we are. Bird-watching, hiking, kayaking, swimming, tree planting, plant collecting, insect hunting, fishing, boat rowing, animal and tree and plant identification. We teach about fire safety and….." he chattered on. "….survival and….."

The camp, Sam learned with an eagle eye and attentive ear; contained a kitchen, dining hall, toilets, and a first aid station – all out back – in tents. There were no rooms or cabins other than the one in which he stood; the Scouts stayed in tents behind the lodge or in the great wide open when they hiked down the hill to camp next to the river that fed into the lake. Down the road a ways was a cluster of houses, no, no motels or any place with rooms to rent, with a gas station/mini-mart. Well, la-de-la, finally, something was going their way.

"Where are we?" Sam demanded impatiently, interrupting when Will paused for a breath. "There was an accident, and a detour, then emergency road work. We got delayed, then lost. The weather turned and I'm beat and my brother isn't feeling well. Is there a motel in town?" all those outdoor activities? Really? Wasn't the state of Nebraska known for, you know, farm land?

"Passing through, eh? Which way you headed?" Will was flipping through a 3-ring binder and counting. "Closet motel is seventeen miles west, can't reach it though." he found what he'd been looking for and with a finger marking his spot on the page, looked up at Sam. "That emergency road work, no doubt, was the bridge on Rte. 45. No going back, they closed it, couldn't repair it tonight. Can't go forward neither, Little Creek flooded her banks and her bridge is under water. Now though, bit of good news, the troop is camping out at the lake. I can offer you a tent outback."

"Oh." Sam shook his head. "Uh…..flood?" he grimaced, Dean in a tent? Even for the remainder of the night? The campground had at least afforded them a well-sized camper with electricity and heat. Yeah, no, bunking down in a tent wouldn't go over well at all. But…but it was late, middle-of-the-night late, almost-dawn late and even if he could, Sam didn't want to drive another seventeen miles in search of a motel, he didn't think he could, but….. "Um." he rubbed his forehead with his thumbs, his poor mind simply didn't want to think. It was Tuesday, right? No, now it was pre-dawn Wednesday morning…..so….so, so what? What difference did it make what day of the week it was? Didn't change their situation or circumstances at all. "Um…"

"Not going south are you?" Will asked. "Hit worse down that way."

Now, how'd he go and guess that correctly? "Um….yeah. Kansas." his brain smacked his skull. "Wait, you said…flood?"

"Woo-wee, you sure did take some twists and turns to end up here. We're thirty-two miles off the interstate. These back roads have a habit of flooding. You're not going anywhere until we get some news on the road conditions." Will was way too cheerful for Sam's current mood. "Tents are big enough for two, cots with sleeping bags or you can spread a sleeping bag out on the floor in the cafeteria, but the tent offers some privacy, more comfort and they're warmer."

"Flood?" not an ideal situation. Not the accommodations Sam wanted, but the bare truth was, he was too exhausted to continue on. What harm could come from spending a couple of hours sleeping in a tent? Decision made, Sam said thank-you and good-night, returned to the car and drove the short distance around the cabin to the muddy field that served as a parking lot. Oh but Den was going to throw a fit when he saw the state of the car, for surely, come daylight, she'd be sporting a coating of mud up to her wheel wells.

Surprisingly, Dean didn't question the order to get out of the car. The door opened and he stumbled from the seat, staggering towards…..huh. He stopped, raised a hand to shield his eyes against the gentle but steady rainfall, hunched his shoulders against the cold and buffeting winds and stared. Yeah, no, see…..couldn't be…no way…nuh-huh. He couldn't be seeing what he was seeing because that would mean…..

"What the hell?" he sputtered, feet refusing to advance him further. "Where the fuck are we Sam?" his head must still be befuddled, yeah, that was it. Sleep deprived or bad food or delirium because…. "Is that a tent?"

"Go inside Dean." Sam ordered.

"That's a tent."

"Don't do this Dean." Sam said wearily. "I'm not up to you throwing a fit. I'm just not, so cut me a break, will ya?"

"Really? Really Sam? I mean, really?!" his feet might not be working, but his eyes were working just fine now, much to his dismay. "That? You EXPECT me to sleep in that? In….in….that? That's a tent! I….I…..you want me to sleep in a tent?"

"Yup and it doesn't matter how many times you say it, it ain't gonna change what it is." Sam rounded the back of the car and popped the trunk. "Best I could do. What's the big deal anyway?"

"The back seat of the Impala is better than this!" he grumbled some more but Sam couldn't make it out. "Tent's leak and they're cold and the ground's hard….are you listening to me?"

Aah, there was the harm; the imminent danger of becoming an only sibling via fratricide. "Yuh-huh." Sam said absently. In the truck sorting the bags he wanted to take into the tent with him, he really wasn't paying much attention to Dean's whining.

"I…..you know, there was the cabin at the lake that didn't have power and I didn't complain. And I didn't say anything when we shared that cabin with the Sheriff and his kid, or stayed with that old witch. My lips were sealed when we crashed at Jody's and when we stayed with that nurse the time you lost me. I forgave you for the horror of that B&B and didn't blame you for the camper. And all those times we squatted in abandoned buildings and houses were because you didn't want to sleep in the car. I didn't even hold it against you when you made me room with Garth…..GARTH but this? THIS? Really?"

"You rented the cabin at the lake." Sam came out of the trunk with what he wanted and slammed it closed. "There was nothing wrong with staying with Jack. Grandma wasn't a bad witch and having to stay with her was all your fault because you shacked up with some unstable bimbo and – don't." he warned when Dean opened his mouth to protest. "Don't you dare say it was because Bobby and I sent you away. That's bullshit." he waved towards the tent to get Dean moving. "And I didn't lose you, you took off and you're damn lucky Suzie found you and took you home with her. It was Kevin who stranded you in the B&B with the family from hell, not me. And oh yeah, you're the one who ordered me to allow Garth into the cabin and it's because I didn't want you recovering in a mold-riddled house that I found a comfy, cozy camper for you."

"Oh." Dean rubbed his eyes. So, Sam had been listening to him. "Okay, fine, fine, blame it all on me, sure, I can handle it…..but Sam…..a tent?"

"It has cots; we won't be sleeping on the ground." Sam sighed. Now Dean woke up and found the ability to talk coherently? What happened to ranting about being blind? No, not talk, one thing about Dean, you could always depend on him to criticize – everything he didn't like.

"I'd rather sleep in the car."

"Well, you can't."

"What do you mean, I can't? Says who? You?" he didn't pause to give Sam time to answer, not that Sam had any intention of doing so anyway. "Why not? We've done it before, lotsa times." he was irritated. Yeah, sure, he'd wanted a place to lie down, the motion of the car making him nauseous, but…..this? Hell, they were barely out of the weather in a canvas tent! The car offered better protection and…

"Because I don't want to Dean!" San finally snapped and flared up. "I'm tired and the weather is shit and the wipers are splitting my head apart. I want to lie down without my chin on my knees. Your head can't still be so scrambled you can't understand that!"

Dean gave him a wounded look. "You don't have to yell at me." he said, affronted. "A simple explanation will do."

"No it won't. Nothing is ever good enough with you when you don't get your own way." Sam ranted. "Simple isn't in your vocabulary when it comes to getting what you want."

"And the insults begin."

"You want to do this now?" Sam shouldered a duffel, wet hair hanging in his face despite the wind doing its best to flip it around. "Fine, FINE! A grand place to pick this fight, but I'll oblige you. Once again, the situation we find ourselves in is because of you. Your fault Dean, you did this. You got hurt and arrested and landed in the hospital and got yourself laid up for weeks. How'd that happen again? Not like I know, you won't tell me anything. I still don't know what happened. Oh, the bar, that's right? Ring any bells? Oh, wait, you had your bell rung….."

"Sam, don't." Dean snapped. "I'm not gonna deal with you and your issues now." if Sam started pointing fucking fingers at him, he'd break 'em. "Always have to pick, don't you?"

"You're going to give me shit? Wow, been with it two days and bam, way to be a prick. Same old Dean, right back to blowing me off."

"I'm not blowing you off!" Dean shouted. "I don't REMEMBER what happened at the bar! IF I do, I'll give you every detail in instant replay, but until then – back the fuck off!"

"Really Dean? Really? You started this!"

"How?" Dean demanded. "Because I don't want to sleep in a fucking tent?"

"DO YOU SEE ANYPLACE ELSE TO STAY?" Sam bellowed. "DO YOU SEE A FUCKING LIGHT POST? DO YOU SEE ANYTHING OTHER THAN TREES?"

"Yeah, a tent!" he blinked, well hell, there was more than one tent. "Sam, I swear, if you found some freaky commune…."

"Just. Get. Inside." Sam ordered. "It's for one night Dean. You'll manage." he bit his lip to keep from bursting forth with the tirade building in his chest. "We'll leave in the morning."

Dean unzipped – unzipped – the flap on the tent, ducked his head and entered. Surprisingly, the interior of the tent was dry, warmer than outside, and cut the wind. It boasted two cots to keep them from feeling the dampness of the ground, complete with pillows and all-weather sleeping bags; a table stood between them containing a battery-operated clock and a solar LED lantern; another table was at the foot of the cots with two Maglite flashlights, extra batteries, some books and magazines and a map of the camp ground. No source of heat, though.

Yeah, these were no ordinary back-pack tents. These were stationary, like those on M.A.S.H., but Dean didn't care about the interior of the tent or Sam's snit-fit. He shed his wet clothes, left them in a pile on what was actually a floor, sat down on the cot to remove his boots and jeans, stood up, unzipped and then crawled into the sleeping bag. He laid down facing the wall of the tent, completely ignoring his brother.

"Oh, no you don't." Sam ignored the dire threats issued by an irate Dean and thrown at him like iron anvils when he forced his brother to rouse for some Tylenol and to towel his hair dry with a pillow case. "Always gotta give me a hard time, don't you?" he wanted out of his own wet clothes and the comfort of the warm sleeping bag but Dean came first.

"Lemme be." Dean slurred sleepily. Lulled by the warmth of the sleeping bag and the ability to lie down, he was only awake because Sam had yet to leave him alone, his earlier disgruntlement over his sleeping accommodations forgotten. "Go a 'way."

Sam hovered around inside the tent searching and snooping until he was sure Dean slept, then grabbed a flashlight from the table as well as his own pocket light and ventured back out into the rainy, chilly night. If only he could sleep, he sighed, as the wind stung his cheeks. The rain had let up to a drizzle but the ground was soggy and full of puddles. Please, don't let the tent leak!

"I'm so sick and tired of detours and getting lost in freak storms and floods and mud and campers and cabins and rustic motels." Sam muttered to the tree he was taking a breather against. He pushed his hair back. "I feel like I'm the damsel in distress in some horror flick, running, looking over her shoulder, always falling. Rinse and repeat."

He trudged on. He was exhausted, his head pounded from tension and his eyes burned with fatigue but now that they were off the road, he needed to know they were safe where they were. If he were to gain any peace of mind, he needed to have a look around the campground and ensure the tent wasn't in danger from a falling tree or even a tree limb or a flood, or worse, a mudslide.

He hadn't even made a complete circle of the cluster of tents when a swath of light cut across the clearing. It swept over the car then came to rest on Sam. "Ahoy! Hello there!"

Sam put his hands up, he had no idea who was confronting him and didn't want to startle anyone into shooting him. He huffed, digging a heel into the mud, and when he felt no immediate threat, his hand without the flashlight eased behind his back to finger his .9 mm.

"Yeah, uh, hi." Sam said, shouting to be heard. "I don't mean anyone any harm." his mind was catching up and duh, it was doubtful armed men were patrolling a Cub Scout campground.

"Bad weather to be out in. What are you doing out here?"

"We were forced off the road for the night." Sam explained as the man, clad in a dark colored rain slicker came up beside him, armed only with a huge flashlight. "Bridge is flooded going south. Will offered us a tent for the night." or what's left of it, Sam thought sourly.

"Well, of course he did. Bet you came in on Rte. 45. Can't repair that bridge you know, closed it until the state engineers can come get a look at it. Welcome." he extended a hand which Sam shook. "Name's Rob. Town's reachable, but no place to stay, though the church hall is open as a shelter. Town of York, which offers reasonable rooms for rent is on the other side of mountain. Doubt you can drive there though."

Mountain? Really? Again, wasn't Nebraska known for its farm land? Wait, town? Was he referring to what Will had called a 'cluster of houses'? Will had said there was a mini-mart, he hadn't mentioned a church. Wow, he couldn't think straight, nothing was making any sense.

"You musta come in the back way." the man continued, not at all bothered by the rain or wind. "Pretty lucky you were able to navigate that dirt road. Heck, pretty darn lucky you even found us. We aren't on any map." he chattered on, walking with Sam while Sam completed his 'look around' until he was satisfied they would be safe staying in the tent. They were on high ground with the stream below them and no trees were within striking distance of the camp site.

Sam said good-night to Rob and returned to the tent, expecting to find Dean still asleep but nope, of course not. No, his obstinate, pig-headed brother was sitting up on the cot and struggling to find his way out of the sleeping bag. An object, mind you, that he had plenty of experience with and, were he not currently temporarily damaged in the head, would have no problem getting out of. Sam smirked; big ole bad hunter Dean stymied by a zipper. Then he sighed and ceded defeat. If Dean's current fit was being thrown over his insistence he stay in the car, Sam wasn't going to stop him.

"If you don't want to stay here, there's a shelter at the church hall a mile or so away." Sam said shortly. "Another cot, bright lights, no privacy, lots of noise, god knows who staying there. You wanna go, I'll take you."

"You're back?" Dean gave up on the zipper and sat with his hands in his lap, legs still encased in the sleeping bag, feet still on the cot. "Nah, I'm good." he laid down, pulling the sleeping bag up to his chin.

Sam removed his boots and wet clothing then dried off with the pillow case before swallowing some aspirin. Dean hadn't been getting up to leave or to go sleep in the car. No, he'd been getting up to go out and search for Sam because Sam had been gone from the tent too long. He snorted, he hadn't been gone fifteen minutes, but apparently, that was fourteen minutes too long to satisfy Dean.

Before crawling into his own sleeping bag, he swung his flashlight around the tent, not missing how Dean ducked his head under the bag to avoid the beam – Dean, who was curled up on his side, hugging a pillow. Great, he was cold. Sam quickly poked around every corner of the tent, nope, no extra blankets. Well, there was probably one or two out in the car.

"Just going out to the car." Sam said quietly, reeling in his annoyance. He didn't relish a dash out to the car in the cold rain but if he were to get any sleep at all, he'd need to make sure Dean was all comfy-cozy. Well, fine, but he'd be damned if he got redressed to retrieve a blanket from the car. Who the hell was around to see him, anyway?

There were two on the backseat and though he originally intended to give both to Dean, his teeth chattered by the time he returned and dried off. So, he wrapped up in the thinner of the two and finally crashed on the other cot, all snug as a bug in the sleeping bag.