Note: Sorry this one is a little late. Probably two more chapters. I'll try to get them up a bit faster. I hope you enjoy!

Dean awoke in the backseat of the small compact Ford Focus. His handcuffs were off which was a big plus but so were most of his clothes. He tried to make sense of that information but his sluggish thoughts stalled on it and he stared ahead dumbly. He concentrated on the sunlight shining through the glass. It seemed to break him from his haze. Glancing down, he found Sam's giant arms wrapped around him. What the? Oh. Right. There'd been water and woods and cold. He wriggled in Sam's grip. Sam tightened his arms.

"Dean…calm down, man. S'okay." Sam sounded weary.

Dean screwed his head sideways and glared at his brother. "No. It's not. Let me go."

Sam wrinkled up his nose and blinked his eyes. He cocked his head so he could stare into Dean's face for a moment. "Fine." He said after a few seconds. Yawning, he loosened his grip. Dean shuffled away – or at least as far away as he could get in the backset. "You were thrashing." Sam said.

Dean grunted. What the hell did that mean? Thrashing? He frowned at Sam. "What the hell does that mean, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. He began to fidget on the seat in some sort of movement that resembled stretching. "What does it sound like it means?"

So…Sam was in full bitch mode this morning. Great. Just great. Dean rubbed his eyes and took in the car. Most of his clothes were hanging over the front seat. He gathered them up and threw them on, wincing as he felt the cold material rub against his skin.

Sam watched him. He motioned to Dean's wrists. "I didn't have anything to wrap those with."

"No need." Dean winced at the sore skin. "Just scraped and bruised." Sam wore a doubtful expression. Dean patted him on the shoulder. "Really, Sam. It's fine."

Sam crossed his arms and shifted his gaze out the window. "Whatever."

Dean paused, contemplating his brother. Sam's jaw kept clenching and unclenching. His body was tense. "What's got your panties in a bind?"

"I'm fine, Dean." He said with a deep undertone that suggested the exact opposite.

Dean lifted his palms up in surrender. Sometimes it was better to let Sam work out whatever got under his skin on his own. The boy was sensitive. Always had been. "Okay…" Probably best to distract Sam with some shop talk. It was time to get to work anyway. "What's our status with the case?"

Sam's thin lips softened into a frown. "I figured out the wodnik's pattern." He picked at a thread on his jeans. "It's gonna kill again today…if it didn't do so already last night."

"Huh." Dean said. He shifted on his seat, ignoring the stitch in his back. They needed to tie this one up. "What all do we know?"

"Other than were screwed." Sam yanked the thread he was picking taut. "This was a stupid plan. You know that. We don't have the car, our phones, or any of the weapons…"

Dean motioned to Sam's belt. "You have a gun."

Sam's nostrils flared. "Yeah. Because I stole it from the guy I knocked out." He crossed his arms. "While I was escaping from NCIS Headquarters, Dean. I was afraid this would happen. I told you so."

Dean made a dismissive grunt. "So. And hey. We both escaped. How awesome are we? We're like folk legends. You know…Bonnie and Clyde…" Dean grinned. "Butch and Sundance."

"Right." Sam's expression darkened. "You know all those people died, right?"

"We've died."

"Besides…" Sam glowered at him. "There was nothing awesome about your escape."

Offense riled Dean and his words came out accusing. "Nothing awesome about escaping from two trained and capable feds. Really, Sam?"

"No." Sam cut in. His face turned red and his voice came out low. "I spent all night warming you up, trying to keep you awake, and when you were quasi-awake you…" Sam clamped his mouth shut.

"I what?"

"Forget it."

Dean sighed. This was the point he should do just that. Sweep whatever it was under the floor mat and leave it there. He felt his face flush. "No. Tell me. What the hell did I do to piss you off so much?" The words came out fast and hard.

Sam held his gaze. His lip trembled and he looked down, shoulders slumping. Dean kept his eyes on his brother. Sam took in a deep breath. He straightened up, meeting Dean's eyes with his full-force stubborn face.

"You shouldn't have to run from the feds, Dean. They should be kissing your ass with all the stuff you've put down."

"Okay." The non-sequitur gave Dean pause. "Yours too, then." He added awkwardly. Sam didn't answer. He slumped back down in the seat looking like an oversized kid in a time-out. Dean sat beside him and waited. He knew what this was about. When Sam didn't speak, he decided to address it. "Look, Sammy. I'm sorry if…" Dean felt heat flush his cheeks. "If my…thrashing…upset you. But I was cold and…well…you know…some things, they get better, but they just never go away…"

"I know." Sam said after a moment. He looked at Dean. "How are we gonna fix this?"

"The case?"

"Yeah. The case. The car. The weapons. The feds." Sam opened his eyes big like the problem was obvious.

"You said you figured out a pattern?" Dean said.

Sam nodded and told him what he'd found out.

Dean leaned back. "Huh. Well, I got an idea on how to get back the car and the weapons. But it'll have to wait for now." Dean apologized silently to the car. Sent her a telepathic message assuring the Impala that he'd get her rescued as soon as he could. "As for the case and the feds… " An easy smirk slid across his face. "I got a plan on how to handle both, but we gotta find a phone."

**

Gibbs met with Tony and McGee at seven in the morning. People were beginning to trickle into work and the building started to hum with activity. He'd assigned Ziva to stay with Abby. Until the Winchester's were apprehended, he wasn't taking chances.

McGee cleared his throat. "We found the stolen truck, but no other sign of Dean or his brother, boss." He shook his head. "The local LEOs have been combing the area most of the night. Nothing so far."

Gibbs stood. Waited. McGee stared at him.

Tony stepped away from his desk, patted the McGee on the back. "Thanks, McNoNews." Tony smirked. His voice rang with confidence. "Just got off the phone with Ducky. He's identified the body as Melvin Kinsey – a medic from the base."

"That's the same person Dean Winchester was sniffing around yesterday when I apprehended him." Gibbs mind itched. "Ducky got a time of death?"

"Nothing exact yet." Tony said. "But he says the man's been dead for days. He's not the guy from yesterday, boss. That's for sure."

"Picture." Gibbs said. McGee brought up an image of a young man with red hair. "Definitely not the man Winchester talked to." Gibbs paced. "Find out everything you can about Kinsey." Gibbs's desk phone rang.

"Yeah." He said, pulling the receiver to his ear.

"Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs took in a deep breath. "Sam." He motioned to McGee for a trace.

"I need to talk to you."

"You could've just left me note." Gibbs heard him sigh over the receiver. Gibbs continued. "I don't like people toying with Abby, Sam."

"What? No." Sam's voice came out hurt. "I just wanted to apologize to her." There was a pause. "Look. You don't believe me. I get that. I really do. But this thing's gonna kill again; if it hasn't already. And it's not stopping anytime soon." He paused. Gibbs heard arguing over the line. Sam came back with an exasperated tone. "Dean says you need to check on the people from the reports he swiped."

Gibbs tapped the desk. He wondered how often the phrase 'Dean says" had fallen off Sam's tongue through the years. He glanced at McGee. The agent typed furiously at his computer. He held up two fingers. Gibbs nodded. He could keep the kid talking. "Well if Dean says I should do it…" He said.

"Well Dean's got good instincts. And so do I. You need to stop this thing."

"I thought that was your job." Gibbs said.

"You're making it impossible for me to do my job." Sam paused. "You still have my phone, right? I call back on it soon." The line went dead.

Gibbs clinked the phone down. "McGee?"

"Ha. Got him, boss." McGee's fingers flew over the keys. His eyes squinted at the screen. "He called from a payphone off of James Avenue." He looked up. "What do you want to do?"

Gibbs glanced at the picture of Kinsey again. No doubt the Winchesters were already distancing themselves from the payphone. Gibbs inhaled, making a decision. "Get me Sam's phone." Gibbs turned to McGee. "If he calls me on it, can you find him?"

McGee considered it and nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem, boss."

"Good." Gibbs grabbed his pack. "Stay here. Keep in contact. Have teams ready to move in. Sam and Dean are going to stay in the area." He turned towards Tony. "Dinozzo, you're with me."

"Right-o, boss." Tony half shrugged as he holstered his gun and pulled out the keys to the state car. "Um…where exactly are we going?"

Gibbs held up the incidence reports. "To talk to the people in the reports and..." He motioned to the image of Melvin Kinsey. "The person pretending to be Melvin Kinsey."