As much as he was loathe to face his father again, Dean knew he needed every advantage if he was going to do this thing.

And that included a hearty breakfast.

He sighed as he stepped back into the room.

Dad was seated at the table by the window - just inches from where the woman had told her story. He was eating biscuits and looking ashamed.

Or maybe Dean just imagined that part.

Without speaking, Dean grabbed up his own breakfast and shoved it into the microwave. He took a long pull on his coffee and half-turned when Dad cleared his throat.

"I … uh … I didn't remember the part where he apologized."

Dean stiffened. So he'd heard every word. "How about the part where he was crying and begging you to let him back in the room?" the older boy shot back, taking his meal and sitting down across from his father.

John paused, his fork halfway to his lips. "No, not that either."

Dean shook his head, eating silently.

"So … where'd he go?"

"Woods."

"Woods? Really? Sammy hates the woods."

"It's Sam."

John sighed. "Look Dean, I'm sorry. I made a mistake, okay? Someday when you're the parent of a teenager with more attitude than brains, you'll get it. Trust me."

Dean glared over his coffee.

"We'll find him." John sighed. "We always do." He glanced at his watch. "I wanted to head north today. Got a hunt brewing up in New York. I guess that's out of the question now."

Dean's head was down, but that didn't stop him from rolling his eyes. He shook his head. "Go. I got this."

John remained silent, thinking.

Dean looked up, relenting. "Really. You can go. Sam's on the Appalachian Trail. He'll head north. Be nice if we had someone to pick us up when I catch up to him."

John's eyes widened. "The Appalachian Trail? Isn't that the one …?"

"The one that Sam did his report on last year? Yeah."

John whistled. "Well hell, the kid's probably having the time of his life."

Dean froze, shooting daggers at his father. "Because a broken nose is always tons of fun."

John had the grace to wince at that, but he remained silent, finishing up his meal and tossing the container into the room's small garbage can.

"So you're going after him on foot?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't see much other way."

John stood, glancing around the room. "Take my pack. It's a shoulder pack. I'll take your duffle. You'll need your hands free." He upended the ancient backpack, dumping its contents across the bed. "You'll need supplies too - enough for you and Sam." He met his son's eyes. "Clothes out in the trunk?"

Dean nodded.

"I'll be back." John said curtly, pulling on his jacket and slipping outside. And Dean was surprised to hear the Impala roar to life and pull away.

He stood and moved to the window, watching as his father drove across the street and parked in the lot of the supercenter next door. Then he shook his head and cleaned up the remnants of his meal. He paused over the two untouched containers, running a hand gently over the tops.

Sam was probably starving right about now. An unwanted image of that skinny kid at the truck stop flitted across his mind again.

Could have been Sam.

Looked enough like him.

Probably that kid had a family who was out looking for him too.

Dean gritted his teeth. So help him, if anyone ever tried something like that with his kid brother …" Dean pictured Sam's easy smile and his eyes that expressed every emotion whether the kid wanted them to or not, and he felt fear pool in his gut.

All it took was one crazy bastard to see the potential there.

Sam had been raised tough, but he was still just a kid.

And he had that handicap of always wanting to help anyone in trouble.

That alone could get a guy killed or worse.

And he was out there with no phone, no money and who knew what for weapons. Dean thought he at least had his knife because he'd done a room recon searching for it and came up empty.

So there was that, at least.

But the kid was injured.

Dean's eyes welled.

Dammit.

"I'm coming, Sammy. Just hang in there, you little bitch." he muttered, heading to the small, cramped bathroom and closing the door. He started the shower running and stepped in. Whatever Dad was up to, Dean wanted to be ready to go when the older man returned.

Time could mean everything.