John stuffed warm clothes into his military surplus duffel. Bobby was on the phone. "John's boys took off last night." Reggie sat slumped at the kitchen table, working on his third cup of coffee. He was already packed.

"Nothing like that. They… well, Sam just got a little stir-crazy and ran away from home. Looks like Dean just went along with it." Bobby re-adjusted his frayed ball cap. "Yeah. So we'd appreciate it if you'd get the word out, help us look for them."

Bosie sat alone in the living room, staring out the window at the cold landscape. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Bobby hung up the phone and dialed another number. "Hey, Aloysius. It's Bobby. Sam and Dean are missing."

John walked fast through the hallway into Bobby's office, boots thumping on the hardwood floor. He came into the kitchen holding his pistol case, and poured himself a large mug of black coffee.

"We'll find them."

John whipped his head around and fixed Reggie with a hard stare. "Damn straight."

"Those two can take care of themselves. You know that."

John's expression softened just a touch. "I know." He slumped against the counter. "But they're out there, all by themselves, because of me."

Reggie took a swallow of coffee. "Bobby was in on it too."

John shook his head. "It was me. He just did what I told him. I love Bobby, but you know as well as I do he's no leader."

"I don't dispute that. But a man is responsible for the things he does. He had a choice."

John's laugh was bitter. "Did he? I'm hard to say no to."

Reggie blew out a breath. "Look. No one's saying you don't have a lot to atone for. 'Cause you sure as hell do. What you did was flat-out wrong. There's a thin line sometimes between hunter and monster, and you crossed it."

John blinked in surprise at Reggie's words.

"You know I speak my mind. But blaming yourself isn't going to help your boys. All you can do is find them and make it right."

John ran his hand through his hair, thick strands shot through with grey, and nodded wearily.

"I will. I'll make it right."

Sam forked another triangle of pancakes into his mouth. Dean flagged down the waitress. "Ma'am? Could I get a side of bacon?" The woman, in her mid-forties with dyed red hair, raised an eyebrow. "To go with your bacon?" Dean had already inhaled the four strips of bacon that came with his scrambled eggs and homemade doughnuts. Dean just grinned, and the waitress scribbled on her pad and walked to the kitchen.

"Ok, so, after this, we have to go see the giant jackalope, and hear the T Rex roar, and promise me we'll check out the rock shop." Dean's eyes were bright, almost feverish.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Sam poured more strawberry syrup over his pancakes. The sight of Dean grinning like a fool, lit up like a little boy, made him blink rapidly like he had something in his eye.

40 miles away, a coil of black smoke worked its way inside a massive house the size of a small mansion, serpentined up the marble staircase, into an ornate master bedroom and hovered over the bed. A grey-haired, stocky white man in embroidered silk pajamas stared up at it, eyes torn away from the television. The smoke plunged down and forced its way into his mouth. The man writhed and struggled, and then went still. When his eyes flashed open again, they gleamed jet black.

He rose, lifted an original Matisse from the wall, and opened the safe behind him. He pulled out a thick stack of cash and several credit cards. Some of the cash, he stuffed into a snakeskin wallet, and the rest he put into a small leather bag with the credit cards. He reached into the safe again, pulled out a large plastic bag filled with cocaine and set that on top of the cash. Then he dressed quickly in an expensive shirt and slacks, threw the leather bag on the passenger seat of his Mercedes, and drove onto the highway, past a sign with a painting of a buffalo on it, saying "25 Minutes—Wall Drug."

After eight slices of bacon, three scrambled eggs, a mound of hash browns and two chocolate doughnuts, Dean finally declared himself full. Sam paid the bill in cash, as John had trained them to always keep fifty dollars in cash on hand in their duffel bags. Dean practically ran for the front door. "Come on, dude. Jackalope!"

Dean insisted they stop first and buy a disposable camera, then clambered up into the fiberglass jackalope's saddle and waved his arm in the air like he was on a rodeo bull. Sam took a picture. Then Dean made Sam climb up and snapped a photo of him. "Awesome. Come on. The T Rex is gonna roar in six minutes!"

They had just enough time to make it to the hallway with the dinosaur head in it. The lights began to flicker and the animatronic T Rex began to snarl and roar, its massive head turning, jaws opening to fully expose its long white teeth. Sam felt a laugh erupt from him, genuine and unexpected. Dean put his arm around his shoulders and Sam jumped. "Scared of a big plastic dinosaur, Sam?"

"It's not that." Sam glanced around the room.

Dean leaned closer and whispered, "No one knows we're brothers, Sammy. It's ok."

Sam stared at Dean like he'd said the most unexpected thing. And then he swallowed hard and pressed his mouth to Dean's in a quick but obvious kiss.

Dean blinked in surprise, and then smiled so wide it made his previous grins seem reserved.

"You two are cute together." A well-dressed man with grey hair leaned against the wall. "Hey, want me to take your picture in front of the T. Rex?" He nodded at the camera in Sam's hand.

"Sure." Sam and Dean moved closer to the dinosaur and dropping their duffels at their feet, they posed for the camera.

The man snapped a photo and handed the camera back to Sam. He smiled. His teeth were perfect, white and even. "Real cute together." He moved close enough that they could smell his cologne. "I could take more pictures of you two. I live near here. And you two…" He glanced at their duffel bags, their worn jeans and scuffed boots. "Well, you look like you could use a little money."

Dean stepped in front of Sam, put his hand on the man's chest and shoved him back. "Fuck off. Before I hurt you." Dean's expression made it clear he meant business and could deliver on his threat.

The man backed up, holding his hands out. "I wasn't going to touch. I just like to watch."

"If you don't back off, you can watch yourself bleed all over your shoes." Sam stepped out from behind Dean, hands clenched into fists. "It's not him you need to be afraid of. It's me."

Dean turned to stare at Sam. Sam's cheeks were red, hands clenched, an expression of pure rage on his face.

The man backed off a few more steps. "Ok. Forget I said anything." He walked down the hallway.

"I don't like that guy." Dean stared at the man as he walked, noticing the nice leather bag over his arm and the fat wallet in his back pocket.

Sam saw it too. "Me neither. He's a bad man."

Dean smirked.

They followed him to the Rockhound shop. Dean tracked him carefully. So carefully, Sam had a few moments where Dean wasn't watching him.

He grabbed up a trilobite fossil, a geode and a beautiful piece of fool's gold, and slid cash across the counter to the woman. She bagged the items quickly and handed Sam his change. He was able to get the bag into his duffel and walk away from the counter without Dean noticing.

He came up behind Dean. "Hey. I noticed along the side of the parking lot, there are some cars we could get to without being spotted. "

"Nice. Now we just need to take care of this douchebag."

The man was mesmerized by a display of stunning mined gemstones behind a locked case. He dropped his leather bag to the floor.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, ok then." He whispered to Sam. "Go when you're ready."

Sam moved up the aisle to the display of mounted jackalopes on the wall, and then stumbled, knocking one off the wall to the ground. The grey-haired man was startled by the commotion. Dean slipped up behind him seamlessly, lifting the wallet from his back pocket without him feeling a thing, picked up the leather bag, tucked it under his jacket and walked out the door.

Sam brushed off the mounted jackalope, undamaged and handed it to the concerned saleswoman. "Sorry, ma'am." He gave her his sweetest smile. It worked.

Sam left the rock shop and joined Dean around the corner, standing next to a grey Mazda sedan. He blocked Dean from view as he pulled the slim jim out of his bag and opened the door. He unlocked the passenger side door for Sam and bent over, fussing under the steering wheel. By the time he'd put the duffels in the back seat and settled into the passenger seat with the leather bag, Dean had hot-wired the car.

"If you ever go dark side, Dean, you'd make an awesome criminal." Sam gave Dean a look of pride. Dean grinned, and drove around the building toward the highway.

The grey-haired man stood outside the Rockhound shop and watched them pull out onto the road. He smiled, white teeth bright in the sunlight.

They didn't relax until they'd made it 20 miles down the road. Dean pulled into a grocery store parking lot at the back, grabbed a screwdriver from his duffel and quickly swapped plates with another car. Then back out onto the road.

Dean tossed Sam the wallet. "Let's see how we did."

Sam whistled appreciatively, pulling out a thick sheaf of fifties and twenties. "Nice." He counted it quickly. "Real nice."

"How much?"

"Two grand."

Dean did a double-take. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Sam started to laugh.

"Check out the bag."

Sam fished the leather bag from the back seat and unzipped it.

"Pull over."

"What."

"There. That rest stop up ahead. Pull over." Sam zipped the bag closed.

Dean pulled into the empty rest stop. Sam tossed him the bag, and he unzipped it. "Fuck me." He pulled out the plastic bag of cocaine. "Holy shit." He pulled out the credit cards. Then one banded stack of twenty dollar bills. Then another. And another. "Sam. There's ten grand in here."

Sam chewed his lip. "Dude. That can keep us going for a real long time. Even without the credit cards."

Dean shot Sam a worried look. "But… we won't be gone a real long time, right? You said you just needed a little time to get your head straight."

Sam stared out the window. "Yeah. Just a little. But… Dean. Now we can stay gone longer. A lot longer. If we want to."

Dean frowned. "What about school?"

Sam threw his head back and laughed. "I'm already ahead a grade. Even with all the moving around we do. I can test out of high school if I have to. I was thinking about doing it anyway."

Dean shook his head. "Sam."

Sam put his hand on Dean's thigh. "Dean, I'm not going to throw away my future. So hold onto the lecture." His expression changed. "Besides, I'm not really thinking about school right now. There's kind of a lot of other stuff going on. In case you forgot."

Dean coughed, and nodded. "You're right." He coughed. "So, what do you want to do with that?"

Sam stared at the cocaine. "Get rid of it."

Dean cocked his head. "You're not curious?"

Sam snorted. "Fuck no, dude."

Dean beamed with pride. "That's my boy." He patted Sam's head. "Just say no."

They transferred the cash and credit cards to their bags, and carrying their duffels on their shoulders so as not to let them out of their sight, they went into the rest stop bathroom. Sam slit the bag open with his knife, dumped the contents into the toilet, and flushed.

Dean brought them around to the back of the rest stop and put the plastic bag, wallet and leather bag on the dirt. Sam rummaged in his pack, pulled out the bottle of lighter fluid, and lighting a twig with his Zippo first, set fire to the small heap. They stood watch as the leather burned up, taking all traces of their fingerprints with it.

"Motel?"

"Yeah."

Dean was suddenly on Sam, kissing him hard.

"What's that for?" Sam's cheeks were pink.

"Dude. You and me. Motel. Just us."

The smile that broke across Sam's face was many things, but sweet was not one of them.