In the end, he finds him outside. The bunker is set in a clearing surrounded by woods and not long after moving in they'd explored the area, coming across a viewpoint that could almost have been man-made. A large log, the remains of a decaying fallen tree, was positioned where the coverage thinned out and allowed a glimpse of the valley below and a lake, far off in the distance. Both of them would go out there to think when everything became too much, but it was Sam who'd developed a real affinity for the spot.

He was there now, looking out, and it didn't escape Dean's notice that he'd positioned himself to one side of the log, leaving plenty of room for someone else to sit. It was practically an engraved invitation, not least because he'd headed for the first place Dean was likely to look.

Taking it, Dean sat down. When it became clear Sam wasn't going to be the one to break the impasse, he ordered his thoughts, choosing words carefully.

"Can you answer me this – is it thinking about a hunt right now that's the problem, or are we talking being hunters in general that's making you freak out?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking just as much care with his words.

"Both, I guess."

Dean couldn't really say he was surprised by the answer, but he had to admit he'd been hoping it was just the former. He waited a moment, to see if anything was going to be added to the statement. When there wasn't, he asked the more difficult question.

"Okay, so then what do we do?"

Sam looked at him finally, eyes red rimmed, and Dean's expression softened. "I'm not trying to pick a fight, I'm really not, but I need you to help me out here, Sam. We made the decision, after Chuck, to keep going and I thought you were okay with that—"

Sam interrupted him. "I was, or at least I thought I was. But maybe I didn't take the time to think about it properly, about what it actually meant."

After a beat of silence Dean prompted him to continue. "Which is?"

Sam shook his head. "It means one of us getting left behind. Just like we've always feared. Now there's no apocalypses, no gods, no big bad gunning for us, we're back to just regular monsters and relying on ourselves. Which sounds better, except what just happened proved it's probably more dangerous than when we faced all those other things. Especially now we don't have some petty-minded deity keeping us alive for his own entertainment. Remember when Chuck made us 'normal' and we had all those regular problems? That's what real life is, Dean, and people die. They die in accidents, they get sick, they die for no reason at all. Throw in hunting monsters, and you've got the life expectancy of a gazelle in the middle of a herd of lions."

Dean considered the points which, to his dismay, were pretty well made. Before he could respond though Sam carried on, clearly on a roll.

"I spent a long time resenting our lives, what Dad had forced us to do. I didn't want it, I never wanted it, but after losing Jess, losing him, it was different and then there was your deal, and losing you, and suddenly years had passed and I was still living that life. In the end, I realised something; that I was good at it, whether I'd planned to be or not. More than that, it's like I told Charlie once – I grew to love what we do, to be proud of saving so many people, but only so long as you and I were doing together." He paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat and knowing he needed to get this out before his emotions spilled over again. "A long time ago, you said I was your weak spot, and you were mine, and you were right. But you know what? I'm tired of being told that's a bad thing, that what we have is co-dependency or some other kind of bullshit. Because what we actually have is something other people go looking for outside their own family. You're not just my brother Dean, you're my best friend. Yeah, some of that might have started because of the way we grew up but it's not all of it, not even close. The truth is it's you, and it's me, and it's who we are, and I'm proud of us. I just don't know how I'm supposed to find a way to face the idea of losing it, losing you, for good."

His vision had slowly blurred as he poured out everything which had been building since that moment in the barn but before any tears could fall he was pulled into an embrace. Burying his face in Dean's shoulder he returned it, clinging on tightly in a way he hadn't been able to then.

Dean meanwhile closed his eyes, fighting to get his own emotions under control. His brother's words had really hit home, echoing exactly the way he felt about their relationship, about Sam. It wasn't something they usually talked openly about though, not outside of last-words scenarios, and while it meant more to him than he could ever have said it also made his heart twist because Sam was right. The idea of losing what they had, of going on alone, it wasn't something he could easily contemplate either.

Eventually Sam pulled away, rubbing his hands over his face and attempting to regain some sense of composure. Dean gave him a minute, looking back out at the view and discreetly wiping away any trace of wetness from his own face. When he sensed Sam was ready, he turned back, getting a slightly shaky smile in return.

Relieved they'd got to the heart of the issue, but aware they were also going round in circles, Dean struggled to think of what to say next. He was given a reprieve when Sam spoke first.

"I know we've decided, more than once, that this was what we would carry on doing. Saving people. Hunting things. But haven't we already given enough? Sacrificed enough? There's gotta be another way to still do something worthwhile without having to lose everything in the process. I'm not talking picket fences and 9-5 office jobs, I know as well as you that's not us. But there's gotta be some kind of middle ground here."

Dean pondered the idea but after a pregnant pause gave up, shrugging with frustration. "I got nothing, Sammy. Don't get me wrong, I agree with what you're saying, for the most part. Neither one of us should have to be the last man standing and yeah, we've both earned a break and some version of a happy ending. But we haven't exactly got transferable skills, or whatever they call it. Taking down monsters is all we know."

Sam shook his head, taking on the stubborn air he got when he was determined to solve a problem. "There has to be something. I just need some time, to consider our options. That's all I'm asking for. No hunting while I try and figure out a Plan B."

Dean had never had much immunity to the look he was currently getting, and he knew his brother was well aware of the fact. But listening to Sam lay it out in black and white had given him a short, sharp shock, and he found to his surprise that the idea of finding some alternative life to the potentially short one laid out in front of them was more appealing than he'd expected.

As Sam's expression kicked up a notch Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, Jesus, knock it off with The Look, would you? We'll do it your way, but on one condition."

Sam's gaze was wary but he reluctantly nodded when it was clear Dean wouldn't continue otherwise. Satisfied, Dean finished his sentence. "You stop treating me like a piece of fine china. We may not be going out looking for monsters, but I'm healed enough for things to get back to how they were. No more snatching things out of my hands before I get a chance to pick them up, no more hovering like some helicopter-Mom when I walk across the room, and definitely no more ban on driving my damn car. I swear, if I don't get a change of scenery I am going to lose it, so even if it's just to go and get supplies you let me out of your sight for more than 5 minutes. Agreed?"

Chagrined, Sam rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before nodding. "Fine, I'll take the training wheels off. But, you have to promise to still take it easy till you're 100% again. You might have hit peak boredom but two weeks after an injury like that is not very long. There's no way you're completely healed just yet, and we both know it."

Accepting the compromise, albeit while muttering about mother-hen syndrome, Dean acquiesced and stood up, stretching to prove a point.

Rolling his eyes Sam ignored the look of triumph when he was able to pull it off without wincing, getting to his feet too and turning towards the bunker. He looked back over his shoulder, as they began to walk.

"You do realise though if you're so keen to get things back to normal, then you can start doing your share of the chores."

Dean's smirk vanished as his face fell, and Sam laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. They might not have solved their issues but at least they were on the right track and if there was one thing he was good at, it was research.

Their potential future was about to become their latest case.