"So what are you planning to do with it?" Sam asked as he found Forester in the wrecking yard as he went to get the mail.

Forester quickly put down that the bag that he had been holding causing Sam to hold back for a second.

"Look man."

Forester got up from his seat, backing off from Sam. "It's okay. I'm fine, you can go back and tell them I haven't run away again or hurt myself, because really Jo, not that I'm saying anything against her but nursing shouldn't be a good career option."

Sam nodded, he had to appreciate the fact that the guy was trying to keep it light. "I wouldn't really know about that."

"So I'm fine, you can tell them that and when I work out what the hell to do I'll…"

"We aren't going to throw you to the dogs," Sam said interrupting him.

Forester took a breath.

Sam scratched his nose. "Yeah, sure what is happening here, we didn't expect it, expect you but we aren't about to use you to buy time with Lilith, to let you …."

"Not go gently into that good night?" Forester replied sarcastically.

"I…isn't that a poem?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, well I liked Dylan Thomas, one of the few poets I read that I did."

Sam took a breath, not sure how to answer.

"And I can rage, rage, against most things when I feel like it, so I think I'll do fine, when I work out what to do about this. So you don't have to feel guilty about anything, about what your brother said or what your…whatever she is, said or about any of it," Forester said with a smirk as he started to limp away.

"Forester," Sam yelled causing him to stop.

"I said, I'm fine, I'm not going anywhere, not yet anyway though when I do go I'm sure when I do I'll be fine," Forester said before his resolve hardened. "But, if you do decide to hang me out to dry, at least do me the courtesy of getting it over with or telling me that I'm going to be 'helping' you find this Lilith that is so curious about me."

"You don't want that," Sam replied.

"I kind of already knew that, but I'm screwed aren't I? And Ruby did say that I could be useful in some way, so even though you are saying now you won't how can you be so sure that it might suddenly become a good idea?" Forester asked sarcastically. "It isn't like you really owe me anything is it? YOU didn't start this."

Sam bowed his head. "Dean, we..."

"Don't do that?" Forester said incredulously. "Don't tell me that you guys don't sacrifice other people to get yourselves out of jams?"

Sam straightened. "What?"

"You tried to start explaining it to me then I freaked out, plus; well I thought I was a lousy drunk but you?"

Sam looked at him confused.

"Before we started the trip down girlfriend lane – when your brother went to the restroom?" Forester explained. "The whole 'man I don't know what to do speech'?"

Sam suddenly wanted to look the guy in the eye, "I never asked him to do it, okay. I never wanted to him to do or expected him to do any deal for me."

"Really?" Forester replied. "Hey, you never thought that if this Lilith is such a big deal you using me to flush her out might help your brother somehow?"

"I didn't know, I didn't know until after," Sam angrily said. "Just like I didn't ask for you to look like me or for hunters or demons or any other of the crap that has happened to you lately to happen."

"Yeah right, and you're the same as me – just some poor schmuck. No wait you're the guy that got picked on to lead the demon world," Forester said.

"You think I wanted this in any way?" Sam asked angrily.

"How the hell do I know?" Forester replied. "All I know is I'm screwed no matter what I do - your brother throws cash at me to make me go away even though you guys tell me that I'm fucked if I leave here, that is unless I cut my face up and never talk to my family again; because that will put them in danger. Not to mention that your friend is convinced that if I'm either your twin or that your Dad screwed my mother!"

"He didn't say that."

"That is what he meant!" Forester replied. "So sorry Sam, if I don't know what you want or what the hell you are or really trust you right now even if I got no choice but to stay here."

"I didn't ask my brother to give up his life to save my skin and I wouldn't ask anyone else to do the same. We aren't going to just dump you or use you, even he's got less than six months to go and we don't really have time to deal with this crap" Sam said.

"Crap? People are trying to kill me because of you and you think it's crap?" Forester retorted. "Fine, it is a bunch of crap what is happening to me, because you could probably just figure you way out of it in five minutes. But just remember that unlike you and your brother, I didn't walk into this thing with my eyes open."

"Well I didn't either!" Sam retorted. "You think this sucks for you – I've been stuck in this since I was six months old and the one time I tried to get out, people died because of me; and not people I didn't know existed before my brother found them, people I cared about, the girl I loved died. So where the hell was my choice in any of this?"

Forester stood there not replying.

"You think that I'm what they say I am? Then why the hell would I even try to help you, when what I should be doing is trying to save my brother?" Sam asked. "You think that if I was what they say that I'd be standing here? That I would have had to look for the bastard that killed Jess or my Mom? That I wouldn't have just snapped my fingers to bring them back? To find the one that has Dean's contract. That if it would get me what I wanted that I wouldn't have served you up already?"

"Wouldn't you or is it that you are just in denial about what you are?" Forester asked. "You seem to be the only one that…that Ruby was really talking to in there, the only one she was listening to. Don't you think there is a reason for that?"

"I don't know what her end game is at the moment and the best way to find out is to keep her close."

"Really? And I suppose she hasn't offered to help you find a way to help your brother?"

Sam took a breath, "Honestly man, I'm grasping at straws trying to work out how to keep him alive as well as trying to get you out of this mess?" Sam asked to which Forester responded with stony silence.

"I'd go to hell in his place if I didn't think that he'd come after me, just to kick my ass and Dean, he isn't exactly helping right now. It took him to a months to say that he actually didn't want to go to hell, but lately every time I think I'm on to something he starts going on about it's stupid and a done deal and I know he's just scared that I'll go down in his place and the only one that is actually helpful is a demon," Sam seemed to start unraveling as he started shaking the package in his hand. "But right now all I can actually do about all of this is pick up a damn vintage shock absorber for a 1967 Chevrolet Impala that I bought off eBay for him, because you pointed out that that one is the way out and Bobby wasn't sure he had one that would work in the yard. So sorry if I can't come up with anything that will make you believe that we are not going to hang you out to dry! Because I've got other more important things on my mind and boosting your fucking ego is way down on my to do list."

Forester took a calming breath before glancing about him. He hesitantly took a step towards Sam. "Okay, can we stop this before we get the whole Superman 3 thing?"

"What?"

"Ehmm, the whole I get angry, you get angry in the junk yard?"

Sam looked around the yard before letting out a laugh.

"Because I'm not saying either of us are Superman or Clark Kent but I'm thinking even without me feeling like shit, it's going pretty much be a one sided fight that I wouldn't get up from anytime soon," Forester said.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked.

"The way you and your brother handled yourself back at Frank's place not to mention how beat up that guy was, the one you brought back," Forester said.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, so why don't we both just cool off," Forester said. "And that way, I stay in one piece okay – not that I wouldn't get a few in before…well you know."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Look I don't know what I'm doing."

Forester sighed. "Guess talking to me is like…well talking to a mirror?"

"I guess," Sam replied. "For some reason…."

"You can't pretend too much with a mirror, can you?" Forester asked to which Sam shrugged.

"Well, mirror or not I would like not to get into a fight because of it."

"And I suppose that wouldn't have anything to do with you not wanting to have Jo looking after you again?" Sam said to which Forester swallowed.

"The conversation and the company I'm not complaining about but…she isn't exactly gentle about ripping off dressings," Forester said.

Sam shrugged, "Trust me, better than Bobby do it. At least you have a pretty face to distract you, and not the general 'suck it up or I'll sock you one'."

"I'll take your word for that," Forester said taking a step forward hand out to Sam. "Can I?"

"Sure," Sam said handing over the box to which Forester opened and examined.

"Classic performance?" Forester said looking at the part. "Where did you get it?"

"Place in Pittsburg sent it – said it was double adjustable in the ad."

"How much?"

"230."

Forester scratched his head. "I take it neither your brother nor Bobby knew you were doing this?"

Sam shook his head. "Thought it would be a surprise."

"And let me guess you have no idea how to fit it?" Forester asked.

"Why would you say that?"

Forester gave Sam a sympathetic smile. "Because if you did, you'd probably know that you could have got one just as good for a lot less than what you paid for it."

"What? How much?"

"You really want to know?" Forester asked to which Sam shook his head.

"I'm guessing no," Sam said.

"Right and what were you planning to do when it turned if you didn't know what to do with it?" Forester asked.

"I don't know," came the reply. "The basics sure I can do, change the oil and a tire, clean heads and stuff. But most importantly I know enough to know to stop before I do more harm than good – I'm the black sheep of my family when it comes to that sort of stuff."

"These days probably all you need," Forester said. "Plus triple A."

"In another situation I'd say yeah, but…" Sam started to say.

"Mint condition Impala that doesn't just get a rag drawn over it on a Sunday?" Forester asked.

"Dean likes to try and keep her running as close as she was when she came off the line and my Dad was the same."

"And you missed out on that mechanic gene?" Forester said with a smile. "Guess they another reason to think that you were the son of Satan?"

Sam snorted his amusement before scratching his head. "Yeah, kind of made me stand out a little because I didn't think everything that was mechanical could be improved by adding a V6 cam shaft."

"So, the hunting and occult crap wasn't always what you guys did?" Forester asked carefully.

Sam shook his head. "Dad was a mechanic."

"So was mine back in the day," Forester admitted before cracking a smile. "But he then decided to get out too, but he opened a stereo store."

Sam couldn't help it, he just laughed as did Forester.

"So I'm guessing you don't get under the hood too much?" Forester finally got out.

"Not unless he's really out of it," Sam said. "Truth is, it wasn't that I can't do it – it's just I wasn't exactly interested in learning, when I was a kid. Always used the excuse that I had homework or something to read."

Forester cocked his head to the side. "A bookworm, who doesn't really know his way under a hood? Where have I seen that before?"

"A bookworm who you admit can kick your ass," Sam pointed out.

"True, but I have to say the last one, he tried to a couple of times and it didn't exactly go his way."

"But he got the girl right?" Sam asked.

Forester shrugged taking a few steps towards the Impala. "Only for a while."

"Really?" Sam asked. "And you didn't do anything?"

"It was high school and actually he did most of the blowing it on his own" Forester said with a smile. "Do you want me to tell you how to fit this or do you want me to do it?"

"With that leg?" Sam asked.

"I can get under her, though would your brother be happy at me touching his car?" Forester asked.

"He'd probably try and kill you out of principle."

Forester stopped handing the thing back to Sam, "You say that you were capable right?"

"I…."

"I'll talk you through it."

"How do you know so much anyway? If you don't mind my asking?" Sam said. "From what I saw in your apartment I thought you were a carpenter."

"As I said my dad was a mechanic," Forester said with a shrug.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, so was mine. That means jack."

"Well unlike some people I always liked cars so I listened when my Dad talked; even rebuilt one when I was a teenager."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just a junker – but she turned out all right."

"Wow," Sam said sounding impressed. "What happened to it? You sell it?"

Forester stopped. "Gave it to Rory."

"Way to score points with a girl," Sam said.

"Yeah, and then the bookworm who didn't know much about what to do under the hood happened."

"He stole it?" Sam asked.

"The two of them went on an ice cream run," Forester explained. "Totaled it."

"And you went out with her after that?" Sam asked to which Forester shrugged. "Okay teenage hormones aside you must have had it bad."

"Kinda always will," Forester admitted to which Sam gave a sympathetic nod.

"Where is Forester?" Winchester asked Bobby who was standing watching.

"Performing miracles," Bobby said with a smile.

What is that supposed to mean?" Winchester asked causing Bobby to nod over at to car.

"What the hell is he doing?" Winchester asked as he saw the pair of legs under the jacked up rear end.

Bobby put a hand out to stop hold stop Dean bursting into a run, "Watch."

Someone limped round the front to hand the other a tool from the chest.

"Okay, I'll change that – what the hell is he telling Sam to do to my car?"

Bobby shrugged. "How the hell do I know? But when was the last time your brother willingly got under an axle without looking like he was sucking a lemon?"

Winchester stood there in silence as he came up with no real response.

"Looks like he won't do too much damage, someone is watching him," Bobby said.

Winchester watched as Sam stuck his head out and handed Forester a metal cylinder, to which Forester said something before handing Sam something else.

"You said the guy seemed to know his way round a car."

"It was just a lucky guess," Winchester said as he watched Sam duck back underneath the Impala.

"Sure it was," Bobby said. "Not that you aren't going to check at all when they're done?"

"They're?"

"Well if Sam actually does whatever he is doing right, you know damn well it's because somebody's told him how to do it. But even if he hasn't you can't complain about team work can you?"

Winchester took a breath. "No, you can't, can you."

"Then roll it, before you try and slot it in," Forester said.

"It'll be the wrong way round," Sam said.

Forester let out a laugh, "you looked at it right? It's symmetrical, it'll fit. If you don't want to try that then you'll have to…wiggle it into place."

"I'm not risking snapping it."

"It's designed to deal with the suspension of 3000 lbs of metal so if you think that you can break it just by moving it up and down a little in a confined space, then ….well you'd really be I don't know some devil thing."

"Thanks," came the response from under the car.

"That or you really got screwed on that deal."

"Fuck!"

"What?" Forester asked.

"Nothing," Sam replied in a muffled voice.

"What's happened?"

"Caught my damn hand didn't I," Sam explained.

"Is there any 'liquid?"

"If that is a euphemism for 'are you bleeding'? Then no, I'm not."

"Actually I was more concerned about the brake line," Forester said. "Your hand is your problem."

"Jez, thanks."

"Fine, if you tell your brother that you ripped the brake line while installing…."

"Yeah, I get it," Sam said as he stuck out a hand to reach for a wrench. "But the line is intact."

"Please tell me he's using a ½ inch," a voice asked Forester.

"What the hell else would you use?" Forester replied.

Sam stuck his head out from where he was working.

"Have you at some temporary bolts in there? To hold it in place?" Winchester said.

Sam swallowed, "Yeah."

"Sure you do," Winchester said trying not to laugh. He turned to Forester. "You know she's my baby."

"She's a great looking car," Forester replied nervously.

"Yeah," Winchester replied.

"Is she 6 or 8 cylinders?" Forester asked. "It's just your brother said you rebuilt a couple of years ago."

Winchester hesitated for a moment. "No, I didn't do anything to her."

"So…ehm," Forester hesitated. "Still just under three hundred horses?"

"Yeah, suited her better to keep her as she was."

Forester looked at the machine before nodding appreciatively.

"Glad you approve," Winchester said as he watched Forester's response, before he turned to Sam. "It only takes one of us to do that thing you know."

"I know," Sam said.

"Right," Winchester mumbled sticking his hands in his pockets. "I'm not the one…"

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said with a nod.

"I'm not saying in any way, shape or form that I believe for one second that there is any possibility that it will tell us anything apart from…."

"Life sucks?" Forester interjected.

"Yeah," Winchester said as something went clunk from under the Impala. Winchester grimaced.

"I…." Sam started to say.

"I'll be back when you finish," Winchester said through gritted teeth as he turned around. "Just don't kill her, Bitch."

Sam smiled. "It's just a car you know….Jerk!"