A/N: Dean a getting better and getting annoyed at his brother's constant mothering. He goes exploring. Thanks for taking this ride with me. Comments/Reviews would be great. NC

Chapter 3

"Is this what you're needing Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked placing two books on the desk for him to look at.

Bobby looked over at the offerings and scanned the text. He smiled at the youngest Winchester before speaking.

"It is Sam, thank you. You do have a knack at finding things, I have to give you that," he praised him. "With this information it should be enough for Bill to find the monster and kill it."

"I'm glad I could help," Sam replied shyly not used to getting praise except from Dean.

They looked up when noises sounded outside the office and saw Dean step into the room. He still looked pale from blood loss, but he didn't seem as unsteady on his feet.

"Dean, you should have stayed in bed until I came up for you," Sam chastised him trying to assert his authority.

"Who died and made you boss?" Dean grunted giving him a big brother glare.

"You almost did," Sam shot back. "If I hadn't found you the other night, you might have died, and I wouldn't have known what happened to you."

Dean looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw knowing Sam was right but didn't want to admit it. He had screwed up and almost left him alone in the world with their Dad. He was an idiot for doing what he did, thinking it would work.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean mumbled, not looking up.

"How's your head son?" Bobby asked.

"Still a little pain, but nothing I can't handle," Dean replied absently raising his hand to feel the pad covering his head wound. He body was still achy and tender in spots, but he was lucky to have gotten off this lightly. Dean was playing his injuries down so not to worry Sammy or Uncle Bobby. He could take the pain and not complain. He had learned to do that over the years.

"Do you need something for it?" Sam asked, being like a mother hen tending to her young.

"No, I'm good. Don't be so clingy."

"Well, I need to start dinner for us," Bobby announced seeing the tension building between the brothers. He wanted to stop it before it got worse. "Sam, why don't you go take a shower and Dean can help me in the kitchen. I'll keep an eye on him for you." He hoped Sam wouldn't see through his ploy of wanting to talk to Dean alone.

"I could use a shower," Sam mulled sniffing his shoulder and smelling himself. He had sweated a lot when he drug Dean back to the house and hadn't showered yet. He looked to Dean one more time before moving past him to head upstairs.

"Wanna join me in the kitchen son?" Bobby asked him as he got up from his desk.

"Sure, why not?" Dean shrugged. He followed Bobby into the kitchen and watched him go to the fridge to get items out for their dinner.

"So, Dean, what happened to you the other night? Who beat you up and left you for dead?"

Dean took a seat at the table and clenched his hands into fists. He didn't want to talk about his failure and how much of a fool he had been thinking he could get by doing what he did. It almost worked, but the ploy was caught, and he couldn't get away.

Bobby could see his features darken and wondered what he had tried to do that didn't work out as planned. He knew Dean could be stubborn and hardheaded, just like his Daddy. He had a feeling that he had tried to either rob someone or pull a con on someone who caught on to his intentions. He hoped to god it wasn't anything else as his mind thought of something darker and prayed that was not what Dean was doing.

"Why didn't you call me for help?" Bobby asked Dean in a calm, soft voice. He had moved to stand at the table beside Dean to talk to him.

"I thought Dad would be back any day…." Dean started. "And I wasn't sure you'd come, after what you told Dad last time."

"Son, what I told your Daddy doesn't pass down to you boys. Hell yes, I'd have come. I would never turn my back on you or your brother, you should know that by now."

"I guess. I was trying to take care of it myself. I thought I could…." Dean trailed off as he kept his head down.

"Well, it's done and over with," Bobby sighed knowing he wouldn't get any more information from Dean and decided to let it drop. He wasn't going to give him the third degree over it. "Why don't you peel some potatoes for me, and I'll get the chicken tenders in the oven? The potatoes are in the laundry room."

"Okay," Dean huffed out glad Bobby wasn't going to pursue the matter. He pushed himself up from the chair, still stiff and sore. He went into the laundry room and found the potatoes to fix. Bobby had sat a bowl and knife by the sink for Dean to use and he put the potatoes in the sink to wash before peeling. "Do you want them cubed or sliced?"

"Sliced, I'm going to put them in the oven with some oil and seasoning to cook with the chicken tenders."

"You got it." Dean turned back to his task to finish it. When he was done, Dean sat the sliced potatoes on the counter near Bobby so he could get them in cooking.

"Here son, you should probably stay hydrated," Bobby told him pulling a Gatorade from the fridge and handing it to him. "And wouldn't hurt to eat some crackers."

"Thanks," Dean nodded, sitting back down, and opening the drink. He did feel parched and started sipping on it. It felt good on his dry throat and the coldness settled easily on his stomach. He picked up a cracker and took a bite, chewing slowly. He had eaten several crackers and drunk most of the Gatorade when Sam walked into the kitchen freshly showered. "About time you showed up, I thought you might have drowned in there. What do you do that takes so long?"

"Nothing," Sam pouted since this wasn't the first time Dean had teased him about this.

"You're not getting friendly with yourself, are you?"

"What does that mean?" Sam asked pushing his wet hair back from his face.

"Dean, I don't think you should go there," Bobby cautioned him in a stern voice.

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled knowing when to keep quiet.

"Can I help Uncle Bobby?" Sam questioned, ignoring his annoying brother.

"You can set the table," Bobby offered wanting to make Sam feel included too.

"Alright, I can do that." Sam went to the cabinet for plates and drawer for silverware before taking the items to the table. He carefully sat the plates around the table and put the silverware beside it. He made sure everything was neat and straight before stepping back to study his work.

"Gee Sammy, you're not doing brain surgery," Dean remarked as he watched his brother and his OCD.

"I just want to be sure it's straight," Sam insisted giving Dean a bitch face.

"It's fine Sam, you did a good job. I'll have dinner ready in about ten minutes. Why don't you get you something to drink Sam and another Gatorade for Dean?"

"Okay," Sam replied going to the fridge to see what they had. He pulled out a root beer for himself and another Gatorade for Dean. "What are you drinking Uncle Bobby?"

"I'll fix a cup of coffee, don't worry about me."

"Alright." Sam went to sit beside his brother as Bobby started taking food from the oven and fixing three plates for them. He brought the plates to the table and passed them around before pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a seat at the table with the boys and noticed they waited for him, not touching their food. He could see the hunger in both their eyes and hated it. "Well, dig in boys, I've got more if anyone wants seconds."

Sam and Dean didn't answer as they started eating their food at a fast pace, and not slowing down until it was gone. Dean burped loudly as he got up to get some more.

Bobby didn't say anything as he ate his food in silence. He knew it would take a few good meals before they didn't worry about food, and he planned on making sure they got it. He once again cussed John Winchester for putting his boys in that situation. Bobby had called the number he had for him and left a not to friendly message to let him know the boys were safe with him and to call to salvage yard.

Once the kitchen was cleaned and leftovers put away, they moved to the living room to watch Bobby's old television. He only got a few channels but found an old western that they could watch. Dean was stretched out on the couch and Sam sat at his feet reading a book from Bobby's library. Sam absently laid a hand on Dean's bare leg wanting to feel the contact with his brother. It gave him comfort and security and didn't see Dean frown at him for a moment and then his expressions softened.

As the movie rolled the credits, Bobby looked over at the couch to see both the boys has dozed off sometime during it. Dean was stretched out with his legs slightly bent toward his chest and his arms curled under his chin. Sam had slid sideways and was using Dean's legs as a pillow as he hugged his calves, seeming content. He hated to wake them but knew they would sleep better in their beds upstairs.

"Wake up son," Bobby called softly to Dean as he touched his shoulder only to have Dean jerk away and sit up with his fist drawn back ready to fight.

"Dean…" Sam grumbled as the movements brought him out of his slumber. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked to Dean and then to Bobby trying to decide what was going on.

"Easy Dean," Bobby cautioned him holding up his hand to him. "You boys should head on upstairs and go to bed."

"Sorry," Dean mumbled as he unclenched his hands and let his body slowly relax when he saw there was no danger. His father had taught him well on defending himself. "C'mon Sammy, bedtime," Dean spoke to Sam as he swung his legs off the couch and sat there for a moment to let his head clear.

"Nite, Uncle Bobby," Sam told him as he got up and grabbed Dean's arm to help steady him even though Dean huffed his protests for a moment but finally allowed it.

"Nite Uncle Bobby," Dean mumbled to him as Sam led them toward the stairs for the second floor. He let Sam have the bathroom first and waited his turn. When he came from the bathroom, Sam was in bed and had straightened his bed for him. The small lamp between their beds burned softly so he could see. He could hear Sam's even breathing coming from his bed as he slipped into his own. He listened to the sounds around him as the house settled and closed his eyes letting his mind drift away into the ebony darkness.

spn

Dean rolled over the next morning and squinted his eyes as he looked around. He could tell the sun was up by the light shining in the curtained window. He saw an empty, made up, bed across from him and wondered where his brother was and why he hadn't woken him. With a soft sigh, Dean sat up on the side of the bed and rolled his head from side to side as he stretched his shoulders feeling a little tightness still in his body.

After using the bathroom and dressing, Dean wandered downstairs looking for the others. He didn't see them in the office or living room and didn't hear any noises from the kitchen but gave a glance in to be sure. He went to the coffee pot and poured a cup of coffee for himself before heading for the front door thinking the only other place they might be was the garage that sat below the house.

As Dean neared the large metal building, he heard a radio playing inside as music floated from a bay opening. He sipped on the coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste that assaulted his taste buds. As he drew closer, he saw Sam walk by the open door with quarts of oil in his arms and disappear from view.

"Whatta ya doing?" Dean questioned as he stepped into the interior of the garage.

"Hey," Sam replied looking up and seeing Dean.

"Should you be drinking that?" Bobby questioned when he saw Dean sip the coffee.

"I've been drinking coffee since I was six," Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, Dad said if he was old enough to fight monsters, he's old enough to drink coffee," Sam added. "I for one don't think it's a good idea, but what do I know, I'm only a kid," he continued sarcasm laced in his words.

"No one asked for your two cents," Dean stated giving him a frown and look that said, 'I wouldn't continue that thought.'

Sam ignored Dean's silent communication and gave him a bitch face back. He handed Bobby the oil as he began to fill the engine of a Ford truck that they were changing the oil in.

"Anything I can work on Bobby?" Dean asked looking around the garage.

"You really should take it easy for another day at least," Sam told him. "The articles I read said you could still have dizzy spells, blurred vision, and headaches for several days."

"Bite me," Dean snapped at him hoping Bobby wasn't listen to Sam. Hell, he was only a kid, what did he know.

"Sam's probably right Dean. You should give yourself a couple of days to heal and recuperate," Bobby said only to get a pout from Dean as he stared hotly at Sam who was smirking. "I really don't have much but a few oil changes and tune ups to do right now."

"Alright," Dean sighed unhappily. "So, what am I supposed to do?"

"You could watch television or read or do some studying from Bobby's books," Sam offered innocently.

Dean wrinkled his nose and growled at Sam before turning on his heels and walking from the garage. He headed back to the house and went inside to the kitchen. He left his cup in the sink and grabbed an apple before heading out the backdoor. Dean looked around for a moment before heading for the stacks of vehicles that lined the back yard, making sort of a wall. He strolled down the rows, looking at the crushed metal vehicles and wondering what the story was behind them.

Before long, he found himself at the back of the stacks and looked around finding an old beat up, rusted, black truck sitting to the side that had not been crushed. The tires were thread bare and were flat. He walked around the truck and saw the engine was missing. After looking around, an idea popped into his head, and he started searching the surrounding area for what he needed.

About an hour later, Dean stepped back from his project to admire it. He had found an old car seat and wedged it into the back of the truck bed making a place to sit. He had found an old tarp and some metal poles to make a covering over it to block the sun or rain. He got in the truck bed and sat down on the seat to see how it felt.

Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead and let the cool breeze blow across it. A dull ache had started behind his eyes and was making his head throb, but he tried to ignore it. His vision blurred and he rubbed his eyes trying to clear it. It took a few minutes before it seemed to settle for now. All the activity had made he exhausted and he could tell he wasn't a hundred percent yet.

This was perfect for his getaway when he needed to be alone. He could bring a blanket and stow it inside the cab and even leave some bottles of water out here in an old ice chest to protect them. Dean was pleased with himself for what he had accomplished.

Now that he was finished with this project, Dean got down and walked around the back of the salvage yard to the buildings that were located there. One structure was the paint shed and several others were for storage. He found a smaller building that looked like it hadn't been opened in years and wondered what it was used for. He stopped at the door to see it was chained, but the metal was rusty and looked like it would fall apart at the touch. Dean pulled on the chain until it pulled free allowing him to open the door.

The air was stale and musty, and Dean coughed as he took a step inside and stopped. He let his eyes roam around the interior and saw stacked boxes, furniture, and a clothes dummy. Curious about what could be in the boxes, Dean moved deeper into the building and pulled a box from a stack sending a cloud of dust into his face. He sneezed and coughed making his head hurt worse as he wiped his eyes so he could see, not knowing the dirt and dust clung to his sweaty face, streaking it.

Once he could breathe again, Dean pulled the box closer to the door into the sunlight and pulled the cracked, yellowing tape from it and opened it. He was surprised by what he found. It had folded women's clothes stored in it. He reached in to pull out an apron and saw an assortment of clothing items for a woman under it. Dean sat back on his heels and started putting the puzzle pieces together.

He had only heard Bobby mention a wife one time, years ago and figured these had to be her things. He guessed Bobby couldn't bring himself to get rid of them when she died. He looked back into the building and felt a chill run up his spine, like he was disturbing a grave. He quickly closed the box and replaced it on the stack before backing out, thinking he was probably the first person that had been in here since Bobby stored all this here. He searched the shadows looking for any movement that might be a spirit but didn't see one. A sadness washed over him as he thought of Bobby's loss and closed the door readjusting the chain to keep the door closed.

"Dean!" a young voice yelled for him. "Dean!" it called again a hint of panic in the voice.

Dean turned at the sound of his brother's voice and started walking toward the backyard and his little brother. He rubbed his temples hoping to ease the headache before it got worse.

"What's all the yelling about?" Dean asked, coughing, and clearing his throat, as Sam came running to him and grabbed his arm to stop him and so he could look him over.

"Where have you been? When Bobby and I got through in the garage, I came looking for you and couldn't find you," Sam started giving him a careful once over. "Why are you so dirty?"

"I was exploring," Dean shrugged shaking off Sam's hold on his arm.

"Bobby's fixing lunch and I came looking for you," Sam replied noticing a pinched look to his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just got some dust up my nose. Well, let's go, I'm a little hungry." Dean started walking back to the house and Sam fell in beside him, not asking further questions but was curious to what Dean was exploring. Dean was going to keep quite about the headache since he didn't want Sam mothering him any more than he already was. He wasn't a good patient, and it was his job to take care of Sam, not the other way around. He figured he could sneak and grab some Tylenol to take without anyone seeing him, hoping that would ease the pain, along with something to eat.