A/n: Thank you so so much for the kind reviews! I know I haven't responded to them put trust me when I say that I appreciate every single one and value your words of support! You are the best readers ever! So as a thank you, I give you an update. Just don't hate me at the end...

as always, this is not beta'd so all mistakes are mine! Hope you enjoy and remember, don't hate me.

"Gordon all taken care of?" Bobby asked gruffly as John entered the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge.

"Yeah. The bastard should be wakin' up just as the cops arrive." John responded grabbing two beers and offering one to Bobby. "Still think we should have killed the son of a bitch."

"No shit, but we got enough to worry about." Bobby sighed. "We ain't got time to deal with a dead body. 'Sides, we planted enough evidence in that hotel room to keep Gordon locked up for a good long bit."

"You really think the cops will go for it?" John asked taking a seat next to Bobby, resting his elbows on the smooth wood of the kitchen table.

"We've got the guns we used at the training house, the floor plan, and some blood of those rat bastards all around the room. Everything points to Gordon. It may not hold up forever, but it'll keep our boy safe for a while."

"How's he doin' anyways? He say anything yet?"

"Not a word." Bobby said grimly. He took a long pull from his beer letting the alcohol numb his mind. It had been almost four days and Dean hadn't said one word. He wouldn't acknowledge anyone. He wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't eat, hell he wouldn't move if John or Bobby didn't physically move him themselves. It was like Dean had given up on the world, absolutely no fight left in him at all.

"You…you know him better, has he done this before?" John stuttered eyes down cast. "Like when you first got him?"

Bobby was silent at first, nursing his beer, his eyes far away and distant.

"Yeah, the first couple of weeks." He said finally. "He didn't do much but it was never this bad."

"He was like this after his mother died. You know, this whole not talking thing. People started to think something was wrong with him. But after a while he grew out of it but then…but then he was gone."

"Well just so you know, that kid of yours gotta mouth on him." Bobby chuckled longingly. "I could never get him to shut up half of the time. I swear he was gonna talk me to death."

John laughed and took a swig of his beer. It was crazy how much Dean was like his mom. Mary use to talk like that. It didn't matter what it was, she was always telling John something. It was one of the things John loved and hated about her. Now he would give anything just to hear her say one little word.

"He's gonna talk again John." Bobby said firmly pulling John from his thoughts. "Don't you doubt it."

"I know. It's just…it's hard."

"Well it ain't no cake walk for him…or his brother."

"How long…"

"As long as he needs." Bobby said sternly. "You can't rush this John. That boy's been through hell, that's not somthin' you just get over. "

"I know but Bobby," John said hesitantly his fingers tracing the label on his beer bottle. "I'm not the kinda guy to just sit around…I never planned to stay this long. I need to get out there, find a hunt, look for the thing that killed me wife."

"You gotta be shitting me." Bobby snarled slamming his hands down on the table making John jump. "Your boy is hurtin', your other one is barely holdin' on and you wanna go huntin'?"

"No Bobby that's what I mean-"

"Sure sounds like it to me. Sounds like you wanna ditch your kids and get out."

"I would never, leave my children. Ever. You got no right."

"Well I ain't the one itchin' for a hunt." Bobby said getting to his feet. John followed, his chair crashing to the ground.

"I'm not leaving them." John hissed.

"Good, glad to hear you got your priorities right." Bobby said simply snatching John's empty bottle off the table and making his way over the sink. John stood there fuming.

"You're an ornery old bastard you know that?" he sighed picking up his chair and sinking back down.

"Yeah I do." Bobby chuckled reaching for two more beers.

"Can you…you know, tell me about him, what he's like?"

"Who, Dean?"

"It's just, there's so much I don't know about him and you've – you were the one to raise him, not me. I just want to know what he's like."

"You sure you wanna open that can of worms?" Bobby said with a smirk.

"Oh god, he's that bad?" John huffed hiding his face behind his hands.

"I don't know where he got it from but that boy's handful. Wasn't so much in the beginning but somethin' about reachin' puberty turned that boy into a whole new kinda animal. You're gonna have a lady killer on your hands."

"You think he'll come with me, when this is all over?" John asked trying to keep the hope out of his voice. "He's been with you for so long, do you think he'll come with me and Sam?"

The question seemed to sober Bobby, his mouth a thin line under his whiskers. He would be lying if the thought hadn't crossed his mind since the revelation of Dean's parentage. It was a sticky situation that would be painful any way you sliced it. Dean would either be leaving Bobby, the man that practically raised him, or he'd be leaving his father and brother. One way or another Dean was going to be leaving someone. Bobby didn't envy the kid at all.

"I don't know John." He sighed. "That's Dean's decision to make when the time comes. But he's gotta get better first."

"And god knows how long that's goin' to take."

"Right, so we got nothin' to worry about yet."

"Yup, plenty of time."

Both of the men nodded and took long pulls from their beers.

"Plenty of time…"

~o0**0o~

Sam watched as Dean sat on the couch in Bobby's living room, his legs drawn close to his body, the amulet Sam gave him hanging around his neck, his eyes focused absently at the bookshelf across from him. He blinked every now and then but that was the only thing he did. Sometimes Sam would catch him tracing the thin scars on his forearm that never completely faded away, his eyes glassy with tears. When that happened, Sam would grab Dean's face and force him to look at Sam. He would tell him over and over how important he is, he would tell Dean how loved he was but it never seemed to make a difference. Dean never seemed to listen.

With a sigh, Sam moved from his spot on the floor and plopped down on the couch next to Dean. He scooted as close as he could, resting his head on his big brother's shoulder. He watched Dean's chest move up and down rhythmically. Sam brushed some fuzz off of Dean's sweat pants and sighed again, this time louder.

"I know you're in there Dean." He said quietly. "You can't hide forever. I'm gonna find a way to bring you back."

Sam glanced up at Dean's gaunt face hoping for some sort of reaction. He was met with the same blank stare he had been dealing with for a week.

"I'm not gonna give up on you Dean, I'll never give up on you just like you'll never give up on me."

Dean blinked, something glinting in his eyes. Sam jolted upright.

"Dean?" he asked cautiously. But whatever Sam saw was gone. Sam slumped back down, sagging against Dean's thin frame. And idea suddenly sparked in Sam's head. If there was one thing he knew about Dean, it was his drive to protect. He protected Sam from getting shot by Gordon and from the man back at the training house. He would do anything to keep Sam safe; even if he was locked way down deep inside of himself, Sam would bet Dean would still try and save him. It wasn't much, but Sam could work with it. "I'm not kidding jerk. I'm gonna find you."

~o0**0o~

It was a mild, fall, Saturday morning, the sky cloudy and the wind bringing the first bit of chill to the lonely junk yard. John, Sam, Bobby, and Dean were all out in the garage. John and Bobby were busy working on the underside of a beat up Chevy Chevelle while Sam sat with Dean off to the side, watching the old men work. It had been three weeks since the training house incident and Dean had yet to say a word. The silence from the young man was deafening. Bobby and the Winchesters had long given up on trying to get him to speak, now they just sat around and waited. Sam went back to school, John helped Bobby out around the house, and Dean just sat there.

"Well I don't know about you old man," John said stepping out from underneath the car. "But I could go for some food and a beer."

"I don't know who you callin' old Winchester." Bobby shot back appearing seconds later covered in grease. "You ain't that much younger than me."

"Sure look better than you."

"Whatever you say jack ass." Bobby chuckled wiping his hands on an old rag before tossing it over his shoulder.

"Sam you and Dean comin'?" John asked half way out of the garage.

"Nah, me and Dean are gonna sit out here for a little bit more." Sam said picking at his nails trying to look as relaxed as possible. His insides were churning with excitement. Today was going to be the day. He was going to bring Dean back, he could feel it.

"Whatever you say sport." John said. "Call if you need help bringing Dean inside."

"Ok dad." Sam called to his and Bobby's retreating backs. Sam watched and waited until the screen door slammed shut before jumping down from his stool. "Just remember," he told Dean as he looked up at the rusty car sitting on the lift. "I'm doin' this for you, so don't get mad at me."

Getting no response from Dean, Sam shrugged his shoulders and began to climb. Getting up to the top of the car wasn't the hard part, that part was easy. It was the getting down bit that was causing Sam's palms to sweat and heart to flutter.

Standing on the roof of the car, his head just inches from the sheet metal that covered the garage, Sam took a second to marvel at the sight. He felt like a giant, a king. Everything else looked so small, even his larger than life brother, especially now. Seeing Dean sitting so vacantly on a stool next to the tool bench sent a surge of determination through Sam. He could do this; he was going to save his brother. Carefully Sam slipped down to his bottom and slid down the windshield, come to a rest on the hood of the car. Taking a deep breath he stood up, swaying unevenly.

"Hey! Dean!" he shouted arms out beside him like he was walking a tight rope. "Look Dean! Do you think I could try out for the circus? I could be one of those people that swing from the ceiling! Wouldn't that be cool? Way better than being a hunter don't you think? I'd just have to make sure I work at a circus that didn't have clowns!"

Sam took another step forward, getting closer and closer to the edge. He was about to start yelling when his balance slipped and he ankle gave way. Crying out, Sam fell backward onto the hood of the car, his body being pulled back down to earth by gravity. Twisting, Sam reached out for anything to stop his fall. Just as his stomach slipped over the edge of the car, Sam's hands gripped the front bumper. He held on desperately but he began to lose his hold as his hands began to sweat harder.

"Dean!" he cried out fear in his voice. "Dean, help me! You gotta wake up man, I'm slipping! Dean, please!"

His fingers began to slip more, he was barely holding on. Damn it this was supposed to work! He thought frantically. The reality that he just might fall and kill himself washed over him in a wave of panic. Not to mention the stupidity of his plan. One of his hands completely slipped, a cry of pain ripping from his lips as his remaining arm was forced to hold his weight. Sam's heart pounded furiously in his chest as he felt his remaining fingers slide on the rusted bumper. This was it. He was going to die and Dean wasn't going to be there to save him.

"DEAN!" he screamed as his hand came loose. Then he was falling, air howling in his ears. Sam scrunched his eyes tight and waited for the inevitable impact that was to lead to his doom.

omg don't hate me please but do tell me what you think!