Updates are getting a little further apart, sorry. I am buried in homework at the moment. I have three essays to finish and a massive stack of books to work through. I dropped them on my toes yesterday, it wasn't fun.

I typed this between all the hard work, hope it turned out okay.

Enjoy!

Who looks like you and looks like me.

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Bobby's number. He nearly dropped it when Sam swore loudly beside him. "Your phone. That's how she found us, I forgot to disable the GPS on your damn phone!"

Dean gave him a brief look and turned his eyes to the road again. The Chevelle was racing down the highway at a dangerous speed. The phone was ringing on the other end, but before Bobby had picked up, the line went dead. Dean swore loudly and snapped his phone shut.

"Phone's dead. This is bad."

Sam pulled out his own phone. "Do you have Lucy's new emergency number?"

Dean shook his head.

Sam swore again and threw his phone down with such force the screen cracked. "This is all my fault."

"Sam…"

"Don't tell me it isn't! Randall is after me. Not you, not Bobby, me. I won't let anyone else take a bullet for me. I…"

"Then what are you gonna do?" shouted Dean furiously. "Are you just going to give yourself up? You heard that bitch, Randall wants me as much as he wants you. This is on me as much as it is on you."

Sam looked away from him, his shoulders tense. "What the hell does he want from us?" he muttered. "The guy shows up out of nowhere, plants a demon in your house and sets his bloodhounds on me. It makes no sense, we've never heard of him before now."

"Well, maybe it's someone we know. Names aren't everything after all. God knows we've made plenty of enemies over the years."

"But Randall hunted in Europe for years. From what Lucy told me he hasn't been here in eight years at least."

Dean nodded, never taking his eyes of the road. "Makes you wonder what he has against us. And you know what else is bothering me? He started chasing you six months ago, but the Succubus has been with me for a year and a half. What the hell's up with that?"

"I don't know," muttered Sam. He stared out of the window. "How far are we from Bobby's?"

"Too far," said Dean softly.

Sam looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Drive faster."

The closer they got to South Dakota, the more nervous Dean got. He caught himself biting his nails and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Bobby was okay, he had to be. Bobby was indestructible. Even after he ended up in that wheelchair, he was still the solid rock anyone could lean on. He was a smart hunter, paranoid as hell. They would never get into his homemade fortress. Bobby wouldn't let them. Dean pressed the pedal to the floor. Bobby was okay.

He'd better be.

Sam shifted in his seat beside him. "Dean?"

"What?"

"When we get there, what are we going to do? If Randall has the place surrounded…"

"Then we are going to drive straight through and find Bobby," said Dean with determination.

Sam was silent for a second. Then he nodded thoughtfully. "Simple plan. Should work."

Dean looked at him from the corner of his eye. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean hesitated for a second. Definitely not the time and place for this…

"Dean, what?" said Sam impatiently.

"It's just that… you… You've changed man. I mean, in the old days you would be all over me and my 'simple plan.' And in that lock-up…I hardly recognised you back there. And you… you're scaring me, dude."

Sam looked at him briefly and stared out of the windscreen again. "Not the time for this, Dean."

Right…

"Sam…"

"It's not 'the old days', Dean. I've changed, you've changed and there is nothing we can do about it." Sam's voice was cold and hard. No compassion. No understanding. He barely sounded like Sam.

Dean shook is head. "It's just that… the last time something like this happened is when I just got back from the pit, and we all know how well that ended."

Okay… low blow. He watched Sam grow pale from the corner of his eye. Very low…

Sam clenched his fists tightly in his lap, his eye were practically spitting sparks. "If you actually think…" He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, obviously forcing himself to calm down. "It's not like that. Not at all. A lot has happened in the past two years, but now is not the time to talk about this. I'll tell you everything when we know Bobby is safe. But now will you just hurry up and get us there?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't. Sam was right. Now wasn't the time or place to talk about this. He could only hope that they would still get the chance to do so.

Bobby's place looked deceptively quiet.

Dean stopped the car some distance away, looking at the house in confusion. There was no sign of anything wrong. All the lights were of. The house was completely dark. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that Bobby always left a light on by the front door, in case of unwanted visitors. Or wanted visitors for that matter. He just wanted to be able to see who was on his porch. And he wanted people to be able to find the door quickly in case of emergency. They had needed that little light plenty of times.

But now it was of, and something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Dean stared at the house. Sam leaned forward beside him. "They're here," he muttered. Just when Dean wanted to ask him how he knew, the radio started crackling with static.

He swore under his breath and hit the gas. The old Chevelle shot forward. The plan was simple. Might as well get it over with. Beside him. Sam braced himself against the dashboard, still leaning forward and staring out of the windscreen. His eyes were fixed on something Dean couldn't see.

"Dean, left!" he barked suddenly.

Without hesitation, Dean yanked the steering wheel to the left. Something lunged at the car from the darkness, jumping up where the car would have been if not for the sudden manoeuvre. Long nails and sharp teeth, flashed in the light of the full moon. Dean wrenched the steering wheel around and nearly spun the car trying to get through the front gate. The rear end of the Chevelle slammed hard against one of the metal posts. Sam had both hands on the dashboard, gripping it tightly to keep himself in his seat in the wildly swerving car.

Dean wrestled to get the old Chevelle back under control. A gunshot rang out from the house and the windscreen broke into an opaque mass of cracks.

"Damn it Bobby!" He hit the brakes hard and the Chevelle spun, slamming hard against the rickety porch of Bobby's house. And suddenly, everything was silent.

A little dazed, Dean raised his head. Sam was lying against the passenger door, his eyes open but looking confused. The cut near his hairline had opened up again and blood was streaming down his face.

The front door slammed open and Bobby came wheeling out at an impressive speed. "Dean? I didn't know it was you. You okay?"

"Yeah," said Dean softly. He pushed his door open and stepped out of the car. The passenger door was jammed against the porch. Inside the car, Sam was moving sluggishly, trying to get his bearings. Dean leaned back into the car. "Sammy? We need to get inside. Can you move?"

Sam pushed himself up from the door, looking pale and confused. Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the other side of the car. "Out this way, come on."

"Sam's with you? Good." Bobby rolled a little closer to the edge of the porch. "I can use all the help I can get."

"Well, next time think of that before you start shooting at us!" Dean snapped angrily. He knew it wasn't entirely fair, but the adrenaline was still flowing and Sam was hanging a little too heavily against his shoulder. Big question now was, how was he going to get big little brother up on the porch with the Chevelle so neatly parked against the steps. Thankfully, Bobby saw his dilemma. "There's a ramp on the side of the house. Go, I'll cover you."

Dean quickly pulled his brother's arm over his shoulders and started walking in the direction Bobby had pointed. Sam was slowly getting it back together, straightening up a little when they reached the ramp. "I got it, Dean," he muttered. He pulled away and made his unsteady way up the ramp. Dean followed close behind, once again cursing his brother's stubborn need for independence. Sam's shoulder was bleeding and he could hardly walk in a straight line. But still, he made his way up the ramp. Alone.

"Get inside, the both of you!" Bobby wheeled his chair back into the house. "And give me a heads up next time you come crashing the party."

Dean bit back a sharp reply and looked around cautiously before following Bobby and Sam into the house. Somehow, it just didn't feel right. It was too easy. Like Randall wanted them in there. When the door fell shut behind him, he had the uncomfortable feeling he was locking himself in.

Let me know what you think! I hope to have the next chapter up by Wednesday.