Okay so it seems the last chapter went over pretty well… I thank everyone for their wonderful reviews, they warm this author's heart!

I just wanted to tell you all that this story is NOT beta'd… I wanted to see if I still got it…

I know that the last chapter wasn't exactly chock full of Limp!Sam… But you gotta pace yourself… Right?

Well anyways enjoy the chapter….

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Three Weeks Later:

Sam walked backwards on the South Dakota highway with his thumb up. It was a gesture that had become familiar to him in the last three weeks, hitching rides had been his way of travel. He had made it from Massachusetts to South Dakota that way, and who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

'If it works, it works...'

A little silver Mazda slowed to a stop beside him, and Sam grinned. When the automatic window rolled down, Sam bent and threw a dimpled smile at the driver. The petite brunette smiled back at him, and asked, "Where you headed?"

"Towards California, so however far you can take me would be appreciated." Sam threw what Dean would have called the 'hot chick,' another smile, and she nodded at him.

"Get in," she said, reaching over and unlocking the door.

"Thanks," Sam told her, sliding into the front seat, and throwing his duffle into the back seat.

"No problem." She threw the car in drive and sped down the highway. "So what's your name Cali?" She asked a few minutes later.

"Uh Cali?" Sam asked, and she smiled her own dimpled smile. "It's Sam, Sam Winchester." He told her, laughing. "You?"

"Oh, my name's Erin." She told him, and when she saw him looking at her, she added, "Erin King." Sam nodded, and looked out the window. "So, why are you go to California? Want to be an actor or something?" She asked, trying to break the silence that permeated the car.

"Actor? Me? No!" Sam laughed, looking back at her. "I actually got into Stanford. Complete scholarship." Sam told her after a minute.

"Wow, you must be a freakin' genius!" She exclaimed looking back at him. "Your family must have been proud. So why are you hitchin'? She asked, and almost immediately regretted it, as she saw the look of pain cross his face.

"Actually, my dad, he didn't much like the fact that I was leaving. He got real mad, and told me if I walked out, not to come back." Sam told her quietly, withdrawing into himself.

Erin looked at him, and felt guilty for bringing the subject up. She reached over to comfort him, taking her eyes off the road, and trying to convey her sorrow for him.

Sam looked up at her, and smiled. His smile was strained, but it was still a smile, and she quirked her lips in response. "You okay?" She asked.

The only answer she got was the horrifying screech of metal impacting metal, as they were hit head on by a truck.

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A month after Sammy left...

"You think he's okay?" Dean asked his father, for the umpteenth time since Sam had left. He was worried about the kid, but he was also angry. Angry that Sam had left, that he had turned his back on the family. Worried that Sam was alone out there, that he didn't have anyone to watch his back... That he hated Dean.

"I'm sure he's fine," John growled, and looked back at the computer he had been sitting at for the past two hours.

Dean sighed and turned away. He knew Sam was probably mad at him for not siding with him for at least some of the argument, and although he wanted to talk to his brother, there was a good possibility that Sam wouldn't want to talk to him. "I'll wait in the Impala," Dean said and turned to walk away.

"I shouldn't be too much longer here." John answered, heaving a sigh of his own. "Dean, you can listen to some of your music if you want to, at least until I get out there." He said, and threw the keys to the Impala to Dean.

"Yes sir," the answer was quiet and barely audible as Dean walked out the front door of the library.

Dean reached down and grabbed his box of cassettes, as he settled into the passenger seat of the Impala, finally settling on a 'Creedence Clearwater Revival' tape. He opened the case and pulled out the tape, but with the tape came a piece of paper, which landed in Dean's lap.

Dean pushed the tape in, and as the beginning thrums to, 'Bad Moon Rising' started, he reached down and unfolded the paper, wondering what the hell it could have been.

'Dean,

I know you probably hate me right now, or at least think that I hate you, but I wanted to tell you that it's okay. I don't hate you, and it's okay if you hate me. (...but only for a little while.)

If you're reading this, my talk with you and dad about Stanford didn't go so hot, and I left with a fight. Some words were probably said that I didn't mean, and if there was anything directed at you, I didn't mean it.

All my life you protected me, and I appreciate that Dean, I really do; I just think that it's time for me to protect myself. Time for me to go out on my own, learn some new things, and teach myself how to live and cope without dad, without you.

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and I hope that I see you again.

Take care big brother,

Sammy... (I love you, jerk.)

P.S. If you still want to talk to me, I got a new cell. The number's 555-392-5073. If I don't hear from you, I'll know not to call.

Dean read the letter with emotion clogging his throat. Without hesitation, he dug his phone out of his pocket, and started to dial the number Sammy had left. He was about to hit the 'SEND' button when the phone rang in his hands.

Looking at the screen, Dean almost choked to see the number he had been dialing appear. 'Sammy had said he wasn't going to call.' Dean thought, dread filling him.

"Hello?" Dean asked, putting the phone to his ear.

'Dean Winchester?' A gruff voice asked, from the other side of the line.

"Yeah, who wants to know?" Dean asked, the possibilities running through his mind. Who had Sammy's phone? Was he hurt? Had he been kidnapped? What happened?

'My name is Doctor Ryan from South Dakota Memorial Hospital. About a week ago, a young man was brought in, in critical condition after a car accident. We've been trying to reach anyone who might know him since then. Your name was in his phone list. We've been trying to reach you all week, but your phone has been turned off.' The man on the other side of the phone told him, and Dean felt his heart clench in his chest. He had turned his phone off during the werewolf hunt he and his father had been on for the last week and a half.

"Is he okay?" Dean asked, and heard a sigh from the other side of the line.

'Without verification of who you are, I can't tell you anything about his condition. If you were to come here to the hospital with identification, I can tell you more.' Doctor Ryan told Dean, and despite the fact that he was on the phone, Dean nodded.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Dean to the man, and hung up the phone. He shut off the car, and practically jumped out. Jogging up the front steps of the library, Dean opened the door, and about ran to his father. "Dad!" He called, his voice rough.

"What is it? What's wrong Dean?" John asked immediately seeing his son's distress.

"It's Sammy dad." Dean told him, and John scowled.

"I thought we just went over this Dean. Sam's-"

"In the hospital." Dean finished. His father looked as if he had been struck.

"Wha- why?" John asked, not able to keep the tremor from his voice.

"I got a call when I was out in the Impala, some man named, Doctor Ryan from South Dakota Memorial Hospital. He said that Sam was brought in a week ago in critical condition from a car accident." As he finished telling him what happened, John was already shutting down the computer, and getting ready to leave.

"Well it looks like we're going to South Dakota." John said even as he was sliding into the driver's seat of his Impala. He turned on the '67 classic and tore off down the road.

'Hold on Sammy, we're comin'!'

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A/N: And the cliffy queen is back! You know you love/hate me… Ha!

Bring on the Sammy angst!

Take care and review often…

OSS