It's hot and humid in Nebraska in summer that mixed with Sam's nervousness in driving his brother's car on a six hour road trip, are making the teen uncomfortable. The old car's air conditioning needs work, but nothing could stop the heat from the July sun beating through the windshield as Sam follows John's truck through the seemingly flat and empty expanses of the Nebraska roads.
Sam can't really complain though; he's glad he got his dad moving this direction. Dean has been without family for three days, shrunken and vulnerable, and Sam has worried the entire time. This morning, Sam asked Dad how Dean was doing, only to have John tell him he hadn't checked on him at all. "There's no cell phone service out here" was John's excuse. Sam almost cried. Sometimes it seems to him that Dad doesn't get Dean at all. His big brother just doesn't do alone well. Funny though, Dean isn't really an extrovert either. It's not like he wants lots of people around him all the time, Dean just needs his family.
The Impala has an old cassette music system, and almost all the tapes are Dean's old music or metal rock. But for his birthday, Dean had actually bought Sam some cassettes, telling him he could only listen to them when HE was driving. So Sam has a Dave Matthews band tape playing because he's already getting tired of Matchbox 20. It makes Sam smile to remember seeing Dean tapping his fingers along sometimes when he listens.
When John pulls into a truck stop with a diner after about four hours of driving, Sam is happy to get out and stretch. This is the longest amount of time the sixteen year old has ever spent behind the wheel at one time. He doesn't know if he'll ever get used to it, or if he'll ever be able to drive like it's part of his nature, like his big brother.
John and Sam both fill their gas tanks and then park to go inside to the restaurant. Both because breakfast food is cheaper and because their morning meal was a power bar, John and Sam order from that menu. Sam is happily tucking into a stack of blueberry pancakes when John starts writing directions for how to get to the Roadhouse.
"What?" Sam almost chokes, and then clears his throat by gulping down milk. "What do you mean, Dad? Aren't you coming with me? What about Dean?"
"What about Dean? If he isn't better within a week, call me. I'll go hunt the witch, but I don't know what you think I can do, Sam." John forks in his last mouthful of eggs and toast glaring at his son. The look would normally be enough to leave Sam tongue-tied, but not today, not now. Not when his father has already left Dean in a terribly vulnerable condition for three days.
"That sucks!" Sam explodes at his father, his voice rising and attracting attention in the restaurant. "You can't do that! You can't do that to Dean! He needs you…he needs us!"
"You keep your voice down, boy! And mind what you're saying."
"Me! Don't act like I'm the one doing something wrong, Dad. I'm not abandoning my kid. You said family comes first. Dean is family. He looks up to you."
"Your brother is twenty years old. He's not a kid. Besides the lady he's staying with is no friend of mine. Me going could make him be put out. Then where will we go? Huh, smartass?" John stands up and throws a twenty dollar bill on the table. "Have Bobby call me if there's anything I need to do to help."
Then John Winchester stomps out of the diner and heads for his truck. Sam sits back down, not even remembering when he stood up. "Like you'll even answer the phone," he whispers brokenly.
Why couldn't his father see how much him not showing up was going to affect Dean? Sam loves his big brother, but, geez, he gets tired of how Dean hero-worships John Winchester. Sam looks down at his unfinished pancakes and decides he's not really hungry any more. How can he be when he has to go tell Dean Dad's not coming?
. . . . . . . . . . .
Bobby Singer never had a son of his own, was afraid he'd be a bad father, like his dad was. The closest he'd come to even really wanting kids was John Winchester's sons. Today he feels like murdering this boy's father and just flat out adopting him – if twenty's not too old for that kind of thing.
This is day three of John not showing up or even calling to check in, calling to ask how Dean was. The first full day could be put off to hunting. And since he and the boy were both recuperating from injuries, it was easy to understand, he guesses. He, Dean, Ellen, and Jo swapped hunting stories all day. Booby enjoys a good story, tells a good one, but enjoys the heck out of Dean making everything into a comedy.
The boy's philosophy seemed to be, if you lived through it, then you might as well learn to laugh at your mistakes. Even doll size, Dean had a way about him that just made a person feel happier to be alive.
It's pretty obvious that Bill Harvelle's little girl is smitten with the young hunter. Even Ellen couldn't help but smile back.
The second full day, Dean starting pacing like a tiger in a cage. Dean asked Bobby a few times if John had called, if Bobby had heard anything. Dean didn't seem mad when he was told no; he asked for less, ate less, and withdrew inside himself. There were still smiles, but they seem brittle and don't quite include his eyes.
And recovering from a head injury or not, Dean drank himself asleep that night. Bobby's pretty sure the boy had convinced the teenaged girl to bring him some whiskey. He didn't seem to care how dangerous that was with a head injury. Well, Bobby knows that feeling; there's been plenty of nights he'd have done the same.
The tiny doll condition sure made it easier to carry Dean off to his little pink bed. Bobby took off his boots before covering him with the handkerchief and doily. Just to be on the safe side, Bobby took his weapons. Ellen noticed what Bobby's doing as she stood next to him.
"You think that's necessary?"
Bobby gave a big loud sigh. "I sure as hell hope not, Ellen, but he's the kind of kid who really needs family. It's tearing him up that he don't know how they're doing. Kid's always been a worrier."
"Well, he's had more reason than most," Ellen allowed, fastening the lid back on the enclosure to keep the cat out. Lester had been sneaking around the last few days eyeing Dean like a treat. Wouldn't do to let that bastard John Winchester – who couldn't be bothered to be here himself – blame her if something happened to his older son.
Now here it is – third day after they got here – and there's still no word from John. Bobby's damned near in mint condition again, and he's wondering how long he can keep trespassing on Ellen's hospitality. He's pretty sure John has ditched his son – just gonna assume Bobby will take care of him – like he's done before. But Bobby's never seen Dean down this far.
Bobby coaxes Dean to come into the main bar. It's not open and the cat's locked out, so there shouldn't be any problem. He sets Dean on the pool table, expecting that the wide space will help the boy seem less caged. Dean sits on the edge of the table staring out the picture window.
The older man looks him over. Dean's wearing the same clothes he fell asleep in, same clothes he wore yesterday and the day before. His eyes above the slightly coppery peach fuzz on his face are hollow. The older hunter removes the gauze from the small figures head to look at the stitches. "Well, they look good enough. I think it's past time."
Dean stirs, looks over his shoulder at Bobby. "Good enough for what, Bobby. To get out of here? Go hunt the witch down? Find my dad and my brother?"
"Yeah, smart guy, I thought I'd just throw you out the door to fend for yourself." Bobby feels bad as soon as the words escape because there's a flash or fear from Dean, but worse there's something that says he's resigned to it, expected it, deserves it. "Geez, boy, you are breaking my frikkin heart if you think I'd do that to you. I was just thinking your stitches are healed enough that you could get a shower. Get some clean clothes on. What do ya say?"
Dean's struggling to get his emotions under control. He takes in a hiccupping breath. "Whatever you want, Dude. But aren't you a little afraid I'll drown?"
"Yep, thought of that. But…I also figured a way around it. I'm gonna run the sink in here to the right temperature. The sinks deep – it'll be like a shower for you. While you get cleaned up, I'll wash your clothes and get 'em dry. Bet you'll feel better and I know you'll smell better."
Bobby gets the water to the right temperature and goes to gather the scrubs and board shorts. When he comes back, he picks up the rest of the clothes and leaves a dry washcloth as a towel and a small hunk of soap he cut off a bar. Dean had been trying to hide his nakedness by staying at the side of the sink basin while Bobby was there and the stainless steel in making him shiver. Once Bobby leaves, Dean grabs the soap and steps under the running water.
The hot water rushing over him does smooth out some of the knots in his shoulders from tension. Relaxed and thinking no one is around, Dean starts to belt out one of his favorite Lynyrd Skynyrd tunes. When he's done showering, he hefts himself like in a chin up out of the sink and starts toweling dry with the washcloth. The water shuts off, and Dean whirls.
"I didn't know you could sing." Jo says in an innocent voice.
Dean turns beat red and wraps the wash cloth around himself. "How long have you been there?" Dean demands, voice low and gravelly.
Jo smiles crookedly. "Probably too long, but I didn't know what was going on and heard the water running. I didn't mean to spy."
Water is still dripping from his hair and his mouth opens and closes with consternation. He's should have known better, he guesses. He wants to lash out, but she's a kid. A kid who has now seen him naked. He pulls the cloth closer around him. Trying to figure out what to do now.
Ellen comes walking in at the tail end of the conversation. "JoAnna Beth! I need to talk to you right now!" The annoyed mother drags her teen aged daughter away by the elbow, leaving Dean standing there, shivering,
The room is quiet and empty when Dean hears a familiar growl of the Impala's engine, and for a moment, none of it matters. The witch's spell, the indignity of living in a cage, the embarrassment of being spied on in the shower by a little girl – all of it – forgotten in his relief that his family is here and safe, that they hadn't abandoned him.