A/N: Sorry about the wait, work has been super busy those week. Hope you guys enjoy.

Chapter Eight

Dean would've thought the pair would've confessed their feelings and spent the rest of the time they were out there making out behind a tree like teenagers or something. Apparently not.

They were quiet once Dean woke up from his nap and he really wouldn't care except he found it hard to relax when the room was mired in tension, sexual or otherwise.

"Just get it together and ask her out, or get over her Sammy," he said once Jess had retired to her own room after dinner.

"It's Sam." He corrected with a frown.

"I don't care if your name's Sam, Frank or Susan; just stop with the awkward sexual tension. It's driving me nuts." Dean retorted.

Sam snorted but didn't otherwise acknowledge Dean. They remained silent until Dean fell asleep in the middle of some crime drama rerun of which he hadn't bothered to remember the name.

Dean woke up the next morning a little earlier to find his shoulder was a little less stiff, a little less painful and he was completely alone in the room. Still he managed to get himself standing without too much cursing and groaning and relieved himself in the bathroom.

He was pleased that he had at least a little freedom of movement back but he doubted he would be able to wrestle a shirt over his head, at least not without some help. He considered with a smirk asking Jess to help him get dressed. Well if Sam didn't get back soon he would have to. He was getting antsy already and wanted to be on the move. He laid back on his bed and flicked the tv back on to wait for Sam to get back... Or for Jess to come round.

It was about twenty minutes later that Sam returned sweaty and carrying a paper bag promising Dean similar delights to the previous morning.

"Dude, you run?" His incredulity was only partly because really? Who actually goes for a run at this time in the morning? But mostly because being in the middle of hiding from a gang which wanted to either kill them or do unspeakable things to them didn't seem like the best time to be keeping up with a fitness regimen.

"You were asleep and I had nothing else to do so..." Sam trailed off in his own defence.

"And you put your sweaty mitts all over my breakfast?"

Sam scowled. "I just picked up the bag, I didn't actually touch any of the food." He said and tossed the bag towards Dean and didn't even wait to see if he caught it before disappearing into the bathroom for a shower.

Dean ate the proffered breakfast while Sam was in the shower. When the bathroom was once again vacant Dean went in - brusquely spurning Sam's offer to help him get out of bed - and got changed into his jeans, emerging shirtless after performing his daily ablutions and sitting silently at the table this time to allow Sam to change the dressing and then help him into a t-shirt.

Once he was fully dressed he turned to see Sam holding up a fairly large square of cloth and folding it in half diagonally. "What's that for?"

"It's a sling, so you don't accidentally reopen your bullet wound."

Dean felt his reluctance show all over his face, then watched as Sam's face set in stern determination in response and Dean sighed and allowed Sam to tie him up in the sling rather than argue against it.

Sam moved about the room packing their bags, he handed Dean his before packing up his own clothes. While Sam was doing that, Dean carefully unzipped his bag and peered in at his belongings, in particular his gun and his two knives. If anything, the last couple of days had proved that they were going to need more firepower.

Sam insisted on driving when they were all three of them ready to leave and Dean - although he felt like a bigger traitor than Annikin Skywalker - was forced to admit to himself that he was in no fit state to be handling his baby.

He grudgingly handed Sam the keys and warned "You better look after her." Before climbing into the passenger seat.

Once Sam had settled into the driver's seat, Dean began directing him to a city about a day's drive away. At both Sam and Jess' quizzical looks he explained, "So I've been thinking and I don't see how three people can hold up against the Flaming Arrows with only one gun and two knives between them. So we're going to pay a little visit to a friend I know and pick up some more weapons; either of you know how to use a gun?"

"Why would we know how to use a gun? Normal people don't go around carrying guns everywhere and kidnapping people." Jess replied quickly with no small amount of scathing in her tone. OK, so she was still sore about that whole thing; Christ, what did she want from him, an apology?

"I know how to use a gun," Sam inserted quietly into the conversation almost as if he wanted them to absorb the information without them actually realising that he had said it.

Two pairs of shocked eyes cut sharply to Sam, "What?" Dean gaped, "since when do you know how to use a gun?"

Sam looked at Dean strangely, "You kidnapped us five days ago, when exactly should I have told you I can use a gun?"

"But none of us at college knew," said Jess lowly from the back seat. "We knew you for nearly two years and you never told us."

Sam's face settled into a mask of stony indifference and he ground his teeth together before replying, "There was no need at college... And I wanted to put that part of my life behind me."

A grave silence settled over the car as Sam wore a face that seemed to promise violence to anyone who asked him further about the part of his life that required using a gun.

So Dean turned up the music and contemplated the fact that Sam may have been more than just a smart mouthed nerd hiding behind his stature to the soundtrack of Metallica. He looked at the bruising on Sam's face and wondered. He hadn't really asked about that, he had assumed Sam had got a few lucky hits in powered by adrenaline and the fact that Jess was right there being a literal damsel in distress. But maybe... There had been four of them there after all, not counting the one that had shot him. No one could be that lucky, not without some skill.

But Sam's expression still forbade any questions and Dean felt suspicions gather in the back of his mind. Surely nothing good could ever be behind that expression.

Dean decided he would leave the questioning for now, his shoulder was still sore - as it had been most of the night when it had been preventing him from going to sleep until the early hours - and he didn't really want to antagonize the kid who was handling his baby. No, that could be an argument for another day. He leaned his head back against the seat and let his eyes slide lazily over to the window.

Dean woke up the next day to someone knocking at the door. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and opened the door to find Jess on the other side holding what was fast becoming the familiar sight of breakfast in a bag.

He took it and wasted no time in delving in and taking a bite of the muffin he found there. As he chewed, more details of the vista in front of him filtered their way through the lingering blur of sleep and he nodded to the parking lot where Sam was pacing with his phone to his ear.

"Who's he talking to?"

Jess glanced back at Sam before answering shortly, "His uncle."

"Huh, never had an uncle," Dean commented mildly, yet still managing to earn a scowl from Jess.

He sighed, he was no good at handling chicks when they got emotional, "I'll eat this then we better go. Can you guys be ready in ten minutes?"

"We're ready now, just waiting for you."

Jess turned and walked back towards Sam and Dean wondered if it was possible to be in the doghouse without actually having a girlfriend; this was why he prefered casual hook ups. It was probably a good thing he never actually hooked up with the girl who seemed like she was making an effort merely to tolerate him.

Dean shrugged and closed the door, if she wanted to hold a grudge then she could go ahead.

Luckily Sam knocked on the door and helped him into his t-shirt and sling again without Dean having to open the door and ask for help.

Even though Dean was a passenger in his baby, he couldn't help the smirk that slowly split his face as she rumbled into life with the opening riff of thunderstruck beginning the slow steady climb to its crescendo.

It wasn't even half an hour into their journey before Sam cleared his throat and said, "so, do you actually listen to anything recorded after the seventies, or is your entire music collection just mullet rock?"

"The eighties was the decade the music died a slow and painful death, and I'm not going to douche-up my baby by playing some crappy Taylor Swift song or whatever you two girls listen to." Dean argued with an annoyed glance towards Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I wasn't going to suggest anything like that - but would it kill you to listen to something different for a change? Like the Foo Fighters? Or Muse?"

"Foo Fighters? What the hell kind of name is that? They're just making up stupid words now."

"That's right, because the name Motorhead was such a stroke of creative genius," Sam snarked back before giving a little shake of his head and turning his attention back to the road, leaving Dean aghast that Sam would dare question even one facet of the musical superiority of the seventies.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught Jess' smirk from the back seat. "No Taylor Swift," he ordered emphatically.

"Of course not," her easy tone was belied by the smirk still playing at her lips, "I much prefer Paloma Faith anyway."

Realising he was outnumbered Dean turned back to face forwards and slumped in his seat grumbling, "my car, my rules."

They didn't spend too long procuring the extra weapons they would need. Sid's place was a dingy smoke-filled hovel that seemed somehow to block out the natural light even in the middle of the day and they were lead to a back room with walls hung floor to ceiling with a probably - scratch that, most definitely - unhealthy collection of guns and knives and another door which opened into a crude, homemade range. Sam looked a little impressed while Jess looked nervous.

Sid treated Sam with his customary suspicion of new faces as Sam hesitantly approached Sid's wares, but as soon as the first gun was in his hand, all caution was cast aside and a switch seemed to flip in Sam's brain as he proved his prowess by stripping then reassembling and shooting bullseyes with each of the four guns that were presented to him. He picked his favourite then spied a range of wicked looking knives and tested those as well. He measured the weight and balance of several knives and asked what they were made out of - though what difference that would make Dean had no clue - again handling them with almost professional expertise.

Then Sam approached Jess, sensing her obvious reluctance and helped her choose a gun, treating her almost like a startled deer. He didn't bother with a knife for her.

By the end of their visit Dean was thinking that Sid might have been falling a little in love with Sam. However, not wanting to tempt fate, they made a swift exit revealing nothing about their plans.

"Is it just me or was that guy just a little too excited?" Sam asked as the group climbed back into the car.

"Dude, Sid's not really picky in the love department. He flirts with everyone that walks through his door." Dean chuckled at Sam's wide eyed expression then his eyes flickered to a still subdued Jess in the backseat, "Well, if they're not two steps away from having a panic attack."

Sam shook his head then returned his focus to the road.

It was when they were eating later on in yet another motel room that Sam suggested the unthinkable.

"Dude there is no way I'm abandoning my car for some random set of lifted wheels, she deserves better than that!" Cried Dean.

"Your car is distinctive, it's gonna stand out no matter where we go and they're going to be looking for it."

"Damn right she stands out! She's a thing of beauty! I'm not abandoning her." Dean insisted, still reeling from the idea of leaving his baby abandoned on the side of the road like she was some ordinary hunk of scrap.

"Then we at least need to swap the plates." Sam tried to suggest, as if cannibalizing her was any better.

"Dude, who the hell are you? I thought you were meant to be some innocent, baby-faced college kid but here you are acting like it's normal to steal a car."

"It's a long story."

"Well I'm sorry kid, but it's one you're just going to have to tell. I'm not going to trust just anybody to have my back the next time the Flaming Arrows find us." Dean fisted his hands on the table and glared.

"Sam? Dean's right." Jess interrupted hesitantly, "You're worrying me a little bit here. I've known you for nearly two years and I never would have thought you would be the kind of person who could shoot a gun like that or casually suggest stealing a car or..."

"Knows how to handle being a hostage?" Sam supplied with an edge of bitterness to his voice.

Jess nodded.

Sam bit his lip and looked away, his knee was twitching in agitation and he was drumming his fingers on the table. It was the most uncomfortable Dean had seen him barring their conversation about Jess.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. You'd have me committed like that." Sam clicked his fingers.

"That's a lame excuse." Dean retorted.

"It's the truth."

"I don't care Sam. Why can't you tell us? Don't you trust me?" Jess pleaded, putting a stilling hand over Sam's erratically drumming fingers.

"Its not that I don't trust you Jess. But some things... You just can't believe them until you see them."

"That's still a freaking lame excuse! Maybe Kaiser really did want you for a reason. You work for a rival gang? Is that it?" Dean accused.

"I don't work for a gang; never have, never will." Sam ground out through gritted teeth and fire in his eyes.

Dean was getting riled now, he stood up and leaned over the table, "Don't get all high and mighty with me. Some of us didn't have a choice, college boy. Some of us don't have mommy and daddy to fall back on. Some of us grew up in the real world where life's an unforgiving bitch. Maybe dear old mommy and daddy sent their precious little prince to college with dirty money, ever think of that?" There was a small, practically inaudible voice in the back of Dean's head trying to remind Dean that Sam was a scholarship student and that he wasn't exactly being fair with his comments, but Dean's rage was blaring over it like a fog horn.

Sam glared at Dean, "Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about." There was a hint of real venom in his voice now.

"Ooh. Did I hit a nerve?" Dean taunted.

"Screw you!" Sam pushed himself aggressively to stand opposite Dean over the table and Jess moved back in case the piece of furniture went flying with all the hostility in the air. "You're the one that got us into this mess, if anything it should be us having trouble trusting you." Even the table seemed to quake under Sam's wrath as the kid stood over it, glaring at Dean with his nostrils flaring as he huffed.

"Sam?" Jess squeaked from beside the wall where she had retreated once the boys had started posturing.

Sam glanced at her shocked face, then with a clear effort of will, he took a deep, calming breath then continued in a more level tone, "Doesn't matter why I know how to shoot anyway; it's not something I'm going to discuss right here and now. All you need to know is I don't like letting people die if I can help it and I will be trying to get us all out of this mess just as much as you will."

Dean felt his suspicions coalesce into a more weighty form, even if they were equally as vague as before. However he realised as he observed the stubborn set of Sam's jaw and the flint in his eyes that he and Sam were at an impasse, "Well, I suppose that's going to have to be good enough for now." He conceded reluctantly.

As the hostility in the atmosphere depleted, the populace of the room sank slowly back to their seats. After a while Dean said, "Now Kaiser has had a shot at us and missed, he might go after your family. Jess I think your family is probably fine, but Sam? Kaiser's not above fighting dirty. I'm going to have to phone my dad as well, I haven't spoken to him in years but that won't stop Kaiser going after him."

"I already spoke with Bobby," replied Sam.

"You call your dad by his first name? Dude that's cold."

Sam threw Dean a withering look, "He's not my dad; he's a family friend, more like an uncle. He's out of town anyway, he's having a bit of trouble with his latest job, but he might be able to help."

"Help how exactly?" Dean asked, his suspicions doubling at the mention of a helpful family friend.

"He's handy to have in a tight spot, and we're on the run from a violent gang, we need all the back up we can get."

"Dude, one guy is hardly going to make a difference," Dean dismissed.

"It's a start. Even with the new gear, we would have no hope of going up against a whole gang - and it's not like I have a whole army at my beck and call." Sam reasoned.

"Whatever dude." Dean said tiredly after he had absorbed what Sam had said, "we can talk about this later. Now you two need to clear off, I need my beauty sleep."

Once they had left, Dean picked up his phone and stared at the number he had been trying to build up the courage to dial all day. Dean was sure that if his dad knew it was him that was calling he probably wouldn't even pick up.

I was right, Dean thought to himself as he was put through to the answer phone, "Dad, please don't just delete this without listening to me first. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from but this is important. I'm in trouble with the Flaming Arrows... And it looks like they might come after you to get to me. Please, just get somewhere safe."

Dean ended the call and wondered if his dad would actually listen to him this time. He never had before but then again, this was turning into a really weird week for Dean.