Guys, I am SOOOOOOOO sorry about uploading the wrong chapter last night... my mistake. I was updating two stories at once, and I accidentally put chapter 21 from my OTHER story instead of this one. Sorry about those of you who were confused, and a big humungous thank-you to those who pointed it out. You are all amazing!

Anywho, THIS chapter is right, and now you can continue reading!

Sorry again!

"We need to what?!" John raised his eyebrows in that father-knows-best look, and crossed his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "Dean, we are not calling Ruby, no way" –

"Dad we don't have a choice," Dean interrupted back, taking a step forward to push his point. "She will be the only one who can find Sam, and you know that!"

"But she's a demon. No, we just have to use the methods we always have. The three of us, and Bobby. Our methods have always worked fine. We don't worth with demons, Dean. I didn't raise you like that" –

"I'm not asking for your permission."

"I…"John hesitated as his son's words sunk in. He frowned, looking up to Dean crossly. "Than why are you asking me?"

"I'm telling you, dad," Dean continued with a note of authority that he had never used with John before, although his voice was pleading. "We need to call Ruby. Our old methods got us through rough spots our whole lives, but we are at war now. And we managed to snag ourselves a little spy from the other side who actually can be used, so we need to use her. For some reason, Sam trusts Ruby, so she's probably our best bet for bringing him home right now. Ruby's helped us a few times now and she can do the job right."

John looked to Bobby for help, trying to get his oldest friend to see his side of things. The man looked at him with sad eyes, removing his trucker cap and smoothing down the balding hair before sighing. "He's right John. Sam's smart, and we've been through situations like this a few times. We wont be able to track him without getting other hunters involved, and that is a big red flag with Sam's visions. We don't want other people to know what's going on. I know Ruby isn't exactly the pin-up poster for innocence but we can trust her enough. John… this is the only way."

From Bobby, John's eyes moved to Dean, and then back a few times. Things were starting to fall back into place. John thought he had invented living on the razors edge, but apparently his sons had reclaimed the sport and made it their own. And Bobby knew all about it. John had been replaced in almost everything. Dean had Bobby, Sam had Dean, and John wasn't needed anymore. That knowledge hurt.

As if able to read John's mind, Dean took a slower step into the circle, coming between Bobby and John so he would be forced to look his son in the face. "Please dad," his voice was softer, using the voice that he had used when begging John to go visit Sam at Stanford with him after the big fight. "Sam needs us to do this. We need to make him see what he's running away from, and he needs his dad…. I need my dad." Dean cleared his throat, his Winchester pride keeping him from going any further into chick-flick territory. "Someone's got to boss me around, eh? Just like old times."

At that, John couldn't help letting slip a little smile, although his eyes were still hard. He nodded. "Alright. Call the demon up."

Dean smiled at that with a nod and reached for his phone, but John grabbed his wrist first. Dean looked up, confused. Apparently he thought the moment was over.

"But," John warned, his voice back into commander-mode now that his son was back to normal. "Don't let me see that attitude again or there will be trouble boy, you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes sir," Dean wiped the smile off his face, although his eyes were still soft. For now, things were back to normal. Dean did need his father still, and hopefully that wouldn't change for a while yet.

"I mean it boy, you may be my size but I can still kick your ass."

Dean gave a little laugh, clearly doubting that, but he refrained from saying anything. "Yes sir."

John let go of Dean's arm, and he pulled out his phone, typing a phone number by memory into it before holding it to his face. After a few seconds, John heard a click on the other end, and a woman's voice.

"Ruby, it's about Sam. You haven't seen him, have you?"

Short pause.

"Damn… Well he took off. Yeah, I know. … Don't start…. Get back to Bobby's as fast as you can, now."

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After a good seven hours, Sam pulled Bobby's old car into the first hotel he saw, and jumped out as quickly as he could manage before grabbing his bags from the trunk. He shut the trunk with his elbow and moved around the back of the car to kick the door shut before heading into the lobby, hiding a wince as the weight from the duffels pulled at his side. But he would be okay. He was built Winchester tough, just like his father and brother, and a little stab wound wasn't going to get in the way of what he had to do. Well…Sam admitted to himself. A big stab wound. But that doesn't change anything. I've been through worse scrapes than this.

He made his way to the front desk, dropping the bags at his feet while he pulled out his wallet. "One room please," he mumbled as he looked up to the attendant watching him with uncertainty, and tossed his credit card on the table. He almost expected the man to ask "two queens or a king," as some of the idiot tellers always did when they thought Dean and Sam were a couple. Sam had always laughed at that, because he knew how embarrassed Dean would get. Dean would blush, get this indignant look on his face and be unable to say anything before Sam would explain that they were brothers. Sam was waiting for the comment, waiting for someone to point out Dean's presence. But the comment never came, and Sam wouldn't get to see his brother's embarrassed face at any funny comments. He was alone.

The man waited patiently for Sam to type in his password, and Sam did so with a slight apologetic look for spacing out. The man watched him with concern, as if afraid that he was going to fall over or something. It wasn't that obvious, was it? Sam argued mentally to that, knowing that he was just being paranoid. The man wouldn't be that worried about him. The only wound he was hiding now was hidden under his jacket. And the one on his heart. But the man wouldn't notice that, because Sam was a good actor. He knew well enough now how to take care of himself. And it was the only way to keep his family safe anyways. He could patch his heart up some other time.

"Thanks," Sam shoved his credit card back into his wallet, and gave the man a false smile before turning around to grab his bags.

"Wait!" The man called out, and Sam turned around to see him holding something out to him. "Sir, you forgot your room key."

"Oh…yeah thanks." Sam took it from him and left again, grabbing his bags and marching upstairs. There was no elevator, but Sam forced himself up three flights of stairs with both of his bags in hand. It was amazing what you could do when you were alone. He found his room – room 347, just his luck being the farthest room possible from the lobby other than the janitors closet – and shoved the key in the lock roughly before throwing the door open. He dropped the bags on the empty bed and turned around to throw the lock on the door and bolt it too. He shut the curtains to close out the afternoon light, because after seven hours of driving he had completely lost his sleeping time. Then, when he checked the room over and made sure he had a good enough arsenal at hand in case of emergencies, he collapsed on the bed in his clothes, not even bothering to pull aside the covers. He was asleep within seconds.

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Dean held the phone to his ear impatiently as it rang, and then in a second or two he heard a click. "Dean," Ruby's voice acknowledged on the other end, already knowing who she was talking to, "What's going on?"

"Ruby," Dean explained as fast as he could, trying not to slur his words as his worry came back full-throttle. "It's about Sam."

"What about Sam?" Ruby almost cut Dean off, her voice going up a notch in a way that Dean found a little strange. She seemed really worried, which he supposed was a good thing, although it was still weird to see her having emotions.

"You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Uh… other than last night when I saved his ass," Ruby continued with a pinch of sarcasm. "Then no."

"Damn," Dean cursed, hoping that it would have been that easy. "He took off."

Dean could practically feel Ruby brooding furiously on the other end. "You lost him already?!"

"Yeah… I know. Don't start. Get back to Bobby's as fast as you can, now."

" It would be faster if I just start looking now," Ruby interrupted quickly, taking charge with no surprise to Dean. "Does he have his hex bag with him?"

Dean hesitated, confused. "He has a hex bag?"

Ruby huffed on the other end. "Never mind. I'll check places I think he might be and start there. Do you have any idea why he left?"

"He was pretty upset about something he saw in his vision last night," Dean offered a slight bit of info, still unwilling to trust Ruby with the whole story. "I think he ran away."

"Hmmm…"Ruby listened intently. " Ran away… You noticed?"

"Shut up smart-ass, we need to find him. Now are you going to help us out or not?"

Ruby laughed, although her voice still had that protective edge to it. "Already left, short-bus. I don't sweat the small talk. Now since Sam can't travel too far in one night, I want you to get in the car now. First place you should check is any place you think he would go to for help. Maybe another psychic, maybe another hunter. You know anybody like that, you get them on the phone. I'll call you if I find anything. Oh yeah, and drive fast."

"Another psychic? Wait Ruby" –

Dean was cut off when the phone line went dead. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't sweat the small talk. "Alright, change of plans." Dean shoved the phone in his pocket and looked up to the two men in front of him. "Ruby's flying solo until she can get a whiff of Sam's trail. I guess she doesn't want us dragging her down or something, I don't really care. What we have to do is look for Sam on our own in the meantime. Bobby, he probably took one of your old cars, so when you find out which one, we can run a red flag so that whenever it gets sold we can pinpoint the locale. Whenever he sells the car it can alert us. I think we should pull out all the stops and call any of our old hunter friends who he could have gone too. Ellen, Jo, Missouri, anyone. For now, I think the best place we should drive is west. Two weeks ago there were demonic omens there, and I think Sam might be itching for a hunt."

"Let's go," John threw the door open and stormed outside, and Bobby followed suit, looking like a couple of men who were not to be messed with, despite their ages.

Bobby was grumbling something Dean couldn't hear, although as he slammed the door behind them and made way for the man to lock it he thought he heard the word "Idgit" thrown in somewhere. Good ol' Bobby.

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In the next three days, Sam did everything he knew of and more to stay indiscreet. Bobby's old car was traded for another – albeit crappier – one to avoid suspicion, and his cell phone was replaced too. He had wanted to sell the car – hopefully some of the money would have gotten back to Bobby – but knowing that it could trace him, he abandoned it instead. He felt horrible stealing Bobby's car in the first place, considering everything the man had done for him and his family but there had been no other means of escape. Sam even went as far as to re-register his laptop IP address, although he doubted anyone looking for him would know enough to search in that method. He stayed in the hotel room, under a name that had created after Dean's death and hadn't used since Dean's resurrection, and refrained from using any credit cards or fake ID's that could sent red flags to anyone at home. Not that he was really using anything. Most of his time was spent in the hotel room, partially because he hated climbing the stairs, and partially because he was too busy researching for any telltale demonic omens nearby. But for now, there was nothing.

Life was routine¸ just like it had been after the trickster had let Dean die, just like it had been after Dean went to hell, and just like it would be from now on. Sam was good at routine, because it kept him sane. He had to get back into his routine lifestyle, because that was the only way to survive. Sam had experimented enough with what Dean had called the "emo" lifestyle after Jess's and their fathers death, and he couldn't do it again. It was much easier to be numb, to go from day to day just getting by even if it meant not smiling, as long as he wouldn't have to face who he was or what had happened. A part of Sam, the part that had always been there, told him that it was no way to live. That it was stupid and foolish and it would bring no happiness now or ever. But the other part of Sam, the part that had kept him alive all these years, told the other part to shut up. Because for now, he would never be truly happy. He accepted that. But for now, he just had to stay sane. That was the important thing. So routine numbness gave him that temporary sanity.

Routine numbness was easy to accomplish with practice. Wake up, shower, eat, research, eat, research, sleep. That was day one. Day two included more research and an hour of redoing all his bandages and stitches by himself. That was a painful and messy chore without help. But although having his father around had been a wonderful luxury lately, and he was used to Dean backing him up, he could make due. Sam would even go as far as to say that he had gotten used to having Ruby backing him up too, but that time had passed. She meant well, but she was no good for him. Her intentions weren't his. Ruby wanted him to use his powers, to give in to the sickness. She gave him demon blood. She was bad for him. And so were Dean, Dad and Bobby, because while they were around Sam wouldn't be able to keep his guard up. Self-control would be key if he wanted to stay good. And they couldn't be in danger. If another family member died because of Sam, he would go insane. He wasn't as strong as they were.

Sam threw his newspaper down on the table in the restaurant, angry that there were no signs to follow, and accidentally knocked over the salt-shaker. The salt made a nice little mountain on the edge of the table, and Sam swore to himself as he scooped it up into a pile. He more gently got the newspaper set aside, before opening up his laptop to check for omens in the way that he was best at. Research.

After a while, Sam got bored of looking at worthless articles, and an idea came to his head. He logged into a few websites, pulling out one of his fake credit cards, and bought enough hunting material online to leave a trail straight west. It was sneaky, Sam knew. He had never used that method before, but it would work. With a credit card trail leading in the direction he knew Dean would expect him to take, he could lead his family in a wild goose-chase forever. With that thought, Sam felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't wanted to leave, and he didn't want to put his family through this. Sam of all people knew how it felt to be unable to help his loved ones when they needed him. But they would be better off this way. They had to be.

The morning of day three came with the ringing of the alarm clock, and Sam pulled his face from the pillow tiredly, still expecting to hear the shower or Dean's grumbling. But there was nothing but the siren beside his ear and the throbbing pain in his head. What time was it?

Sam hit the clock with his left hand to no avail, and shifted his weight to shut the alarm off with his right. The movement caused his stomach to pull across the scar on his stomach, and he rediscovered another pain he had forgotten in his sleep, that of his injury. Moaning softly, he pulled himself out of bed, reaching for his painkillers on the nightstand. His hand came in contact with the bottle, knocked it to the ground and eventually regained control of the cylinder when he bent over painfully to reach it from under the bed. With his hand wrapped around the shape firmly, he pulled it back to the bed and sat down again, removing the lid with his thumb. Turning the bottle upside-down, Sam frowned as a measly yellow Advil rolled to his rescue. So that was what he had forgotten. To get more painkillers. And antibiotics. And he couldn't just walk into a hospital or free clinic and get a new prescription without setting Dean on his tail. Sighing, Sam dry-swallowed the pill and stood up to a new day. This was going to be a long recovery, wasn't it?

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Ruby pulled her duplicate hex bag from the inside of her jacket, looking around the back alley behind her to see if she was being watched. When she was satisfied of her privacy, she pulled out a lighter from her jeans pocket, and held it below the hex bag, letting the flames creep up the bag in green. She closed her eyes, concentrating on Sam's presence that she would soon be able to sense once the bag was ruined. Of course, it wouldn't do to let Sam go without her protection, so his bag had included a charm that depended on hers. That was one factor that she hadn't told him about. This charm would be secret. It would work, until hers was burned. That was risky of course, because if Ruby's bag had gotten into the wrong hands it could mean trouble. But it was the lesser of two evils because Sam's safety was more important than the risk, and that wouldn't matter once both hex bags were useless.

The bag fell out of Ruby's hands, smoldering on the concrete, and she smiled as the hole in her consciousness filled with the familiar presence that she had gotten ever-so comfortable with in the past year and a half… Sam. And she could sense him again.

Watch out baby, Ruby stomped on the ashes of the bag as she stepped into the night. Dean isn't the one who's going to be kicking your ass when we find you.