Sam hadn't anticipated on falling asleep, but despite what Deanna had estimated he'd only slept soundly for a few hours in the motel the previous night, so as they drove, weariness snuck up upon him unawares. Perhaps it was genuinely the lack of sleep, or perhaps it was the motion of the car, like the rocking of a crib, evoking a childhood response that enveloped him into slumber like the darkness had enveloped the world beyond the Impala into obscurity. Whichever the cause, he slept as though cast adrift upon an endless black ocean.

When he awoke, it was because they had stopped, the sudden lack of motion as jarringly abrupt as a physical jolt. He squinted, turning his head in time to catch Dean pulling the key from the ignition, and then he instantly winced as he straightened his neck, the cracking of vertebrae indicating how much his body was no longer accustomed to the rigours of long-haul road trips.

Dean, who was rubbing his own neck, shot him a quick glance. "We're here," he announced brusquely and without any ceremonial preamble. "Give me a minute."

He climbed out without waiting for a response, stretching his limbs before heading towards the large, low structure in front of them.

Sam blinked away the sleep, his vision still clinging to it as he blearily squinted through the windscreen. The building, a large, rectangular silhouette that had suddenly come to view seemed to solidify, its hard edges and boundaries becoming definite as his eyes adjusted to the dark landscape all around. The sign above the structure flickered against the night sky like a moth trap, red neon cursive and dime store bulbs spelling out the name; Harvelle's Roadhouse.

Dean had parked in the lot out front, and as Sam scanned it he saw only a handful of other vehicles there; two pick-up trucks (one run-down, the other beat-up) and an easy-rider chopper. He turned to get some bearing on their location, but trees on all sides obscured vantage of any buildings or highway, or even any other lights. They were off the beaten track that was for sure, but Sam couldn't gauge by how much. He was certainly sure however that this wasn't any kind of place he or Jess would have ever brought the kids. He wondered about Dean's choice, berating himself for not having quizzed his brother more thoroughly about this 'safe-house' sooner.

Someone had emerged from the building and was talking with Dean, their hushed voices filtering in as a low muffled conversation that Sam couldn't decipher. He couldn't make out who this other shorter, burlier figure was either, shrouded as they were in darkness. Cautiously, Sam climbed out from the car and at the creaking of the Impala door, both men stopped talking and turned to look at him. The shorter of the two made a move towards Sam, and after a few paces his features became clearer.

"Bobby!" Sam exclaimed, his voice betraying his surprise as much as his genuine joy at seeing the older hunter. He hadn't expected the meeting given Dean's reticence about where they were headed or who would be there, but seeing Bobby's familiar face in a place that was otherwise completely outside of Sam's comfort zone, went a long way to easing his concerns.

Bobby returned Sam's smile with an equally warm and heartfelt one of his own, pulling the taller man into an impromptu embrace.

"It's good to see you son," he said fondly, his gruff voice mellowing with affection as he wrapped his arms around the younger Winchester.

"You too Bobby." Sam re-joined, returning the hug with the same affection. "You have no idea."

When they parted Bobby's hand lingered on Sam's arm for a moment as his eyes grew sombre and sincere. "Dean filled us in," he said solemnly. "We'll get them back Sam, we've already been working on it."

Sam didn't get a chance to ask who the 'we' in question were or what exactly they had been working on, because Dean broke up the reunion.

"Let's get the kids inside," he said addressing Sam. "I could do with a beer."

Though the inside of the bar was dimly lit, Sam was relieved to make out that it seemed practically deserted, there seeming to be only a couple of patrons sat at one of the tables in the far corner.

A dark haired woman approached as soon as they entered, and Sam realised he'd met her before. He racked his brain for a name, searching his memories to recall when or where they would have ever crossed paths.

She smiled at him as she neared, her eyes softening with sympathy, and with that look of commisery and consolation he remembered her instantly.

"Sam," she greeted warmly. "You probably don't remember m–"

"Ellen," he said with a smile before she could finish. "Of course I do. We met at my Dad's funeral. It's good to see you again." Then he paused, his confusion catching up with him. "I just wasn't expecting to see you," he explained. "Least of all in a dive like this," he added, unable to censor the disapproval from his voice as he scanned their immediate surroundings.

Ellen's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Well seeing as I own this dive, I'd be surprised if you didn't."

Sam felt mortified, not knowing how to respond after that. Next to him he sensed Dean shaking his head in exasperation. Ellen didn't seem to mind however as her smile widened.

"It's okay kid," she said in an easy, forgiving tone. "You've all had a long drive. Come one. I've got the room all set. Let's get the little ones to bed."

Sam and Dean, each with a child in their arms, followed her across the bar and through a door towards the back. Several rooms branched off from the hall and she led them to one directly across. It was modestly furnished with two freshly made beds and a sturdy wooden cot. Though the décor was simple, the room was clean and comfortable and instantly welcoming.

As Sam lay Eric down in the cot, he noticed the symbols etched into the wood, the carvings seeming fresh. When he glanced over to the beds, he saw the same motif engraved into the bed posts. Some elements he was familiar with but on the whole the entire pattern was far more intricate than anything he'd previously encountered.

"They're wardings." Ellen explained, having caught his eye and guessing his silent question. Then she indicated to the walls, where there were other painted symbols, again seemingly fresh. "Not that this whole place isn't warded up to the nines, but still," she shrugged. "You can never be too careful."

"I've not seen ones so detailed before." Sam commented, running a finger over the rough, deliberate grooves on the cot and then casting an eye over the walls. "I don't recognise half these symbols."

"We've learned a thing or two over the years," Ellen explained. "Plus, we don't do things half-cocked round here. Not since…" She paused, reacting to some subtle signal from Dean, and when she flicked a quick glance his way, he shot her what Sam considered to be a warning look, curtailing whatever it was Ellen had been about to say. "Well, we don't take any chances," she finished, stepping away.

Sam didn't understand the nuances of the exchange and in any case, at that moment he felt far too travel weary to question it.

Sunny jumped up on the bed as soon as Dean laid Deanna down, curling up at her feet, and Dean gave him a wary look.

"Doesn't he know to stay off the furniture?" he groused at Sam, straightening as he tugged the covers up over his niece.

Sam ruffled the dog's ear fondly before responding.

"She sleeps better when he's with her. Since Jess' been… while she's not here."

Ellen placed a hand gently on Sam's arm as she passed him to leave the room, her smile again sympathetic as she spoke.

"There's a bathroom at the end of the hall there. Why don't you boys freshen up and I'll fix you something to eat."

Dean was about to follow Ellen out but paused at Sam's side, sensing his brother's apprehension.

"They're safe here," he assured him, following his brother's gaze and reading his concerns.

Sam nodded haltingly in response, before shaking his head.

"I don't know how Dad ever did it," he said softly, eyes still lingering on the sleeping infants.

"Did what?" Dean asked, not understanding.

"Hunting." Sam said ruefully. "Jumping from place to place. Living this whole life with us in the backseat."

Dean shifted on his feet, not wanting an argument right then about how in Sam's opinions John had let them down as a parent. Realising what Dean was thinking however, Sam shook his head again.

"I meant after what happened with Mom," he explained. "I don't know how he kept it together. I'm barely functioning without Jess."

"Is that your way of acknowledging it wasn't easy for him and admitting he did a half decent job?" Dean quizzed, raising an eyebrow and Sam allowed a smile at the remark.

"I'm just saying I'm beginning to get why he was so hard on us. With the training routines and combat drills and all the rest of it. Knowing what could come crashing through the doors, I get why he use to ride us so hard, why he taught us to fight. It's just… I don't know how he was able to leave us alone when he went off on hunts."

"We were a lot older." Dean supplied. "And we weren't always alone."

"I know, it's just…" He sighed. "I'm struggling even just turning my back on them while I'm in the same room."

Dean nodded in understanding. He couldn't deny that he felt a twinge of apprehension himself, even though he suspected the Roadhouse was probably one of the safest places on Earth right about then.

"You know Ellen's right, about the wardings," he told his brother gently, hoping it would go some way to reassuring him. "This place is on lockdown tighter than Fort Knox. And everyone here is a hunter. I vouch for them myself. Trust me Sammy, nothings getting through those doors."

Sam nodded again, and Dean could tell he was trying to convince himself to let go.

"I'll plug in the baby monitor while you wash up." Dean suggested, urging his brother out of the room. "And we'll leave both sets of doors open." He nodded towards the door across from them in the hallway. "That way we'll be able to see right through and keep an eye on them. Trust me. It's okay."

Sam took a deep wavering breath before tearing his eyes away from the children and meeting his brother's gaze. Dean met his look with eyes that were patient and resolute, the confidence he inspired shining effortlessly through and it shored up the gaps in Sam's resolve.

"Okay." Sam agreed, accepting his brother's word.

Had the assurance come from anyone else, Sam wouldn't, and couldn't, have given it any credence. But this was precisely why he'd come to Dean; there was no one in the world he trusted more right then.


tbc

Thank you Kathy for your encouragement and feedback, it's appreciated :-)

And Shazza19, I'm really glad you liked the car bit, I wrote it literally as I was about to publish because I figured someone was bound to wonder what happened to the car. Again, it's one of those things I knew in my head but hadn't written down, so I'm really glad it made you laugh :-)

And re. your other remarks, your questions and insights continue to be on point! But you know what Dean is like, he's not one for sharing. And Sam won't know what to ask unless he figures it out. Let's just say he has his work cut out for him!