Author's Note:

There is a bit of a surprise at the end of the chapter. Just trying to get this plot going finally.

"We get some fucking food, that's what. Then I'm taking you back to the hotel and I'm going to do some research on that laptop I bought." Dean picked up the duffel bag he had packed. "Do I have to wear that stupid scarf again, or do you trust me yet?"

Sherlock smirked. "That depends, do you trust me enough to tell me what the hell is going on?" He picked up his own bag with a small grimace. He even picked up the scarf because he already knew what the American's answer would be.

Dean glared at Sherlock and he snatched the scarf from the British detective's hand. He was about to tie the scarf into place when a slow smirk spread on his lips. "You sure you are going to be able to drive? You seem to be in a lot of pain, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself further."

Sherlock rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I'll be fine Dean-o. Now put that scarf on." He could suffer through how uncomfortable it was going to be to drive, if only to wipe that damn smirk off the American's face.

Dean scowled but tied the scarf in place. This British detective was going to drive him crazy. Just like Cas did at times. A brief smile found its way to his lips but it quickly faded. Cas was gone now. Left to die or worse in Purgatory. He cleared his throat and turned quickly, almost tripping over something but he managed to keep his balance after a few moments of flailing blindly and leaning backward.

Sherlock watched Dean thoughtfully but he couldn't help but smirk as he watched the American try to stay sure footed. "Come on, this way." He was still having difficulty walking normally but he grabbed Dean by the coat sleeve and directed them to the exit. He helped the American into the car, put everything away and then closed up the shed. He would probably have it moved again, just in case. He got in the car and it took him a moment to find a position to sit in that wasn't terribly uncomfortable. He was about to drive back to the hotel when he remembered Dean wanted a burger. He stopped at McDonald's. That's where American's went wasn't it?

When Dean felt the car come to a stop and the engine turn off, he took off the scarf without waiting to be told to. What the hell was this shit? "Dude, I want a real burger. Don't get me wrong, when I was a kid McDonald's was awesome but I'd have to eat like five of those things for it be the equivalent of a man's burger."

Sherlock shook his head with a sigh. He didn't understand why it mattered. Food was food to him but apparently this American wanted a specific burger. "Fine, I'm not eating. Go where you want." He got out of the car and then back in but in the back seat. It would let him lay down for a little while, maybe it would better than sitting.

Dean watched Sherlock with raised eyebrows and then shrugged. Instead of getting out of the car and going around, he just hopped into the driver's seat. "Hey, Holmes. Use that stupid genius mind of yours and tell me how to get to the nearest burger joint."

Sherlock smirked as he stared up at the ceiling of the car. "The nearest 'burger joint' is right in front of you. You need only to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way." Laying down was only a slight improvement from sitting.

"Awesome Dude. Thanks for that." Dean started the car. He looked up and down the road as he waited to turn out of the fast food parking lot. A diner to the left caught his eye. He drove to it. If British detective wasn't going to eat, then he was just going to get it to go. He could eat and do research at the same time. It would help waste less time than he already had. He went inside without another word. He ordered a burger, of course, some fries, a large soda and they even had pie. This place was fucking awesome already and he hadn't tried the food yet. Once the order was ready he went back out to the car, munching on some fries.

Sherlock opted to stay in the car. He really didn't want to have to move all that much. He had decided that once he got back to the hotel he was going to lay on his stomach on the bed. Thinking of trying to do anything else just didn't appeal to him at all. He was staring up at the ceiling of the car, fingers under his chin in thought. He barely noticed that the car had started running again.

Dean was happy to eat in silence. He was ravenous but he didn't shove it down his throat, instead he decided to savor the taste of his food over downing it like some kind of animal. He clicked on the radio, because Jesus he had missed music. He found a classic rock station to his liking, fingers drumming along to it on the steering wheel. After a few wrong turns, he found the hotel anyway. He got out of the car with his bag of food and paused when Sherlock stayed in the back seat. "You coming Holmes? Or you just going to stay in the car all night?"

Sherlock let his thoughts wonder aimlessly, tuning out the terrible blaring noise in his ears. What was it and American's and their poor taste in music? Didn't anyone appreciate the classics anymore? He sighed at his thoughts and focused on more important things. He blinked out of his reverie as he heard Dean speak to him. It came as surprise the American was coming inside with him. He thought they were parting ways. Apparently not. He was...relieved actually. Some company was nice. Even if it was Dean Winchester. A wise ass, annoying, American. It made him wonder how John had ever put up with because really, he was kind of the same way. It was a bit surprising the two of them hadn't killed each other. Not for lack of trying though... He smirked a bit and with a slight groan got up and out of the car.

For a moment Dean didn't think Sherlock had heard him. He had become used to the spaced out look by now. "Here." He shoved his food and drink into the British detective's hands. "I'll get everything else. Just go up to the room and I'll be along shortly."

Sherlock was about to argue but didn't see the point. He merely nodded and walked to the lift in the parking garage. He hit the 'up' button, stepped inside when the doors slid open, and rode the lift up to the floor of their hotel room. Once the lift came to a stop, he got out and went straight to the room. He opened the door, dropped the items in his hands haphazardly on the table. He stripped out of his shirt and laid stomach first on the bed. It was a lot better than being on his back already.

Dean was getting the things out of the trunk when he heard a very familiar voice behind him. It startled him and he banged his head on the hood of the trunk. "Damn it," he swore as he spun around quickly. His eyes went wide with surprise because he thought maybe he had been hearing things. Only there was Cas, face to face with him.

"Dean...help...I need you...they are trying...we need...can't stay...Dean come back..." Castiel's words were broken as he flickered in and out existence. He was trying to use his grace to stay and take Dean back, but they wouldn't let him. He disappeared completely, forgetting already what he had just tried to do.

"Cas! Wait! Come back!" Dean was breathing heavily. What the hell? None of that had made sense. He looked around the parking garage wildly, hoping...praying for Cas to return. After awhile it became apparent that wasn't going to happen. "GOD DAMMIT!" He swore loudly, not caring that he had drawn stares. He grabbed the rest of the stuff, mumbling a string of curses as he slammed the trunk shut. He stalked up to the room, preferring to take the stairs to help let off some steam. He practically kicked the door open and threw the bags down in a corner. Just once, just fucking once he would like a break but he knew that would never happen.

Sherlock turned his attention to Dean with raised eyebrows. Something had obviously happened since he had left the American at the car. Should he even bother asking? Dean would probably just brush him off like usual.

Dean waited for Sherlock to say something because he was really looking to pick another fight. Only the damn British detective remained silent. He forced himself to calm down a bit. How was he supposed to enjoy his pie now? Leave it to the universe to say 'fuck you Dean Winchester' when all he wanted was to take a second and enjoy some damn good food.