My apologies for the delay in posting this next chapter, I had planned to post yesterday but the site seems to be glitching for some reason. :(

Thank you for reading and special hugs to those who have been kind enough to review. Anyway, on with the show.

Chapter 2

"Is Dean usually this late?" Mac asked cautiously, aware that John's eyes had been going to the clock more and more regularly.

"He's obviously picked up your son's flare for the dramatic," the Knight sighed. Guilt flashed through his eyes but he turned his head so his friend wouldn't see it. "A trait he will not be keeping." John swallowed, cleared his throat then turned back to Mac. "Like I said, he'll be back when he's hungry. Besides," he glanced towards the door that led through to the bedrooms.

Mac didn't need to groan, the sky outside rumbled for him, and he saw John's eyes go to the window where the rain clattered against the glass.

Despite the weather, he knew any suggestion they go look for the eleven-year-old would be taken by his friend as a criticism of his parenting, rather than concern for the boy. And John was right, Dean was unlikely to wander far from his brother.

They were interrupted by Caleb who limped through as fast as his hurt leg would let him. Sam followed, though he was staying carefully behind the older boy.

"Sam hurt his hand," Caleb said, clearly annoyed. Mac looked at Sam with concern.

"He's fine," John said. "Right Sam?" The message was clear and Sam glanced at his dad before nodding. Mac frowned, unless John had latent psychic abilities he'd been keeping under his hat, in order for John to know that, the injury must have happened before they'd arrived.

The doctor got up and crouched before Caleb, trying to engage the six-year-old who was hiding himself behind the older boy's legs. With gentle coaxing from both Mac and Caleb, Sam held out his hand for the doctor to look at, carefully staying to the side that kept Caleb between him and his father.

"How did you hurt it?" There was no sign of damage, perhaps a slight pinkness.

"I thought it had cooled," Sam said quietly.

"Thought what had cooled?" Mac asked, looking over the hand again now he had at least some indication he was looking for a burn.

Sam gave a big sigh.

Caleb rested a hand on the little boy's head and nodded encouragingly. The story needed to come from Sam. "Come on, talk Runt."

"Dean said I could have one when it had cooled down. It seemed like ages had passed so I thought it had. But it was still hot and it hurt. Then Daddy was mad and I told him Dean said I could have one but he yelled a lot even though Dean did say that!"

"You left out the part where he told you to wait," John pointed out, frowning.

Sam pouted. The two expressions were similar enough to have a muscle twitching in Mac's cheek.

"And I'm guessing Dean didn't clarify the matter either," he said, looking at John, finally understanding the reason for the boy's absence. John ran a hand down his face.

"And I'm guessing he wasn't given the opportunity," Caleb said darkly, his eyes flashing at the Knight.

SPNBROAU

Perhaps it was because he hadn't slept properly since his dad had failed to return when expected, or because he had exhausted himself running the two miles to the rail yard, or perhaps it was just emotional exhaustion. Whatever the case, Dean had fallen asleep shortly after curling up in the corner of the train carriage. So perhaps it was lucky for the kid that he never slept through. Even when safe at Pastor Jim's farm, he'd wake briefly every few hours, just long enough to check the status quo, before snuggling back into his pillow.

On this occasion, at first he didn't even realise he'd slept at all. He could hear a clatter, the rain on the steel roof of the train wagon, suggesting it was still coming down hard. It shouldn't be long though. That type of rain usually eased off after a while. His first indication that something was not right was the soft motion which was trying to lull him back to sleep. His mind squinted, trying to figure out why an uncomfortable feeling was starting in his belly.

Memories prodded at his conscience. He had to get back and check on Sammy. His brother was hurt. And Dad, Dad would be furious. The longer Dean was gone the worse it would be. He needed to get back - now.

With a swallow, he forced his eyes open and sat up. A pain throbbed from where the weapons filled duffle had collided with his face. He brought a hand up to poke cautiously at his cheek. He could feel swelling and dried blood, but nothing a shower and an ice pack wouldn't fix.

The burgeoning panic that had forced him up was compounded as consciousness started to outweigh sleep. Something was wrong.

The clatter was not only the rain that was still bouncing off the roof. The gentle rocking was the motion of the discarded carriages. Dean looked around himself, his heart rate increasing. Apparently, the train had not been as abandoned as he thought. With every clatter of wheels over rails his panic notched up.

He couldn't be sure how long he'd been asleep, so he didn't know how long he'd been moving. He also had no idea what direction the train was heading or its final destination.

Scooting on his butt, he shifted towards the open side of the box wagon from where he could see the landscape rushing past. It didn't look so fast. Perhaps they had only just started and if he jumped now, he could still get back before his dad exploded.

Trying to force down his fear and focus on practicality, the way Dad tried to hammer into his thick skull, he got to his feet and moved to the edge of the carriage. Looking straight down, the speed looked faster than he'd first thought. His heart pounded, his stomach churned. Every second took him further away from his family. He leaned forward then back suddenly as a post or tree or something swept past, startling him.

No time like the present, he mumbled to himself, stepping back to get a running start. He knew getting distance between him and the moving vehicle was important. Various training ran through his mind. They'd never actually covered jumping from a moving train, Dean had only seen that in movies (usually with his dad scoffing in the background that it was unrealistic). But he had been made to jump from the Impala when it was moving a couple of times. Sure, Dad hadn't been going fast; And Dean had extra padding tucked into his clothes; And safe spaces had been specifically chosen, none of which applied here. But he understood the training was in case something like this ever happened.

The landscape was still passing, his family getting further and further away, the trouble he was in getting bigger and bigger, with each passing second. Dean swallowed hard. Pulling his shoulders back, he focused on his brother and father. With a last deep breath, he went for it.

SPNBROAU

"Ow, shit!" Caleb suddenly exclaimed, bending over in his chair. Mac was up and around the table in a second, his concerned eyes searching his son.

"What's up with you?" John asked, his eyebrows drawing together. Caleb rarely admitted to any pain, the aberration pulled on something in his gut.

"My ankle hurt," Caleb had grasped it briefly but was now sitting back up with a worried frown, the hand that had reached for his ankle now rubbing his temple.

"Wuss," John teased, looking relieved.

"Of course your ankle hurt," Mac sighed, kneeling before Caleb. "It's fractured and you refuse to follow the simple …"

"Not that ankle," Caleb interrupted him.

Mac, who was in the process of checking the CAM boot holding Caleb's right ankle securely, glanced up at the worried look on his son's face then turned his attention to the other ankle with a frown.

"You didn't mention anything before," he chided as he gently felt around the joint. "I'm not seeing any swelling or feeling any heat." He looked up at his son. Caleb's gaze seemed distant but as he felt the eyes of his father, he returned to the room.

Caleb scoffed, "It's fine."

Mac's expression questioned, sceptically. His mouth opened, probably to start some lecture on properly reporting and attending injuries, or pain being something that should be listened to not ignored, but Caleb pushed on. "Dad, it hurt for a moment, then it was fine again. And I didn't hurt it on the hunt." There was an urgency in the teen's tone and Mac felt the worry emanating from him.

"What are you saying?"

Caleb was aware John's attention was now also laser focused on him but kept his eyes on his dad, cold-shouldering his mentor.

"I'm saying we need to find Deuce." Caleb tried to stand but Mac's firm hands kept him seated.

"Is Dean okay?" a small voice came from the doorway, making them all turn that way. Sam had a habit at times of lingering just outside of doors and listening to what was being discussed, especially when Dean wasn't about to prevent it.

"Sammy, go and get something of Dean's," Caleb said, trying to keep the worry from his voice. Action had always been more helpful to him than platitudes, he hoped the same would prove true for the six-year-old.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, not wanting to leave and maybe miss something that concerned his brother. Caleb pushed down his own fears in the face of the child's.

"It's okay, Runt." He put his hand reassuringly on Sam's shoulder. "We just need something of his so that we can track him down." Sam nodded and ran off.

A moment later he was back, proudly carrying a pair of underpants. Caleb choked back a laugh and directed the kid to Mac. The doctor screwed up his nose at the offering.

"These will help you find Dean," Sam said. "He wore them yesterday."

"Perhaps something …" Mac started but wide insistent eyes met his.

"These will work, Mac," the little boy insisted. "Pastor Jim says you can always reach people with love." Sam nodded affirming his point. Mac looked quizzical, still not grasping the choice of the underwear. "Caleb says the place where love is spread from is his pants." The boy unblushingly explained his logic. Mac blushed for him. John glowered at Caleb. Caleb ducked his head.

To be fair he'd been speaking to Dean, not the youngest Winchester, but he doubted that defence was going to save his neck. Instead he opted for redirection.

"We need to work with what we've got. Before Deuce finds more trouble." His link to Dean was well established which meant, despite his concussion, he knew the boy was alive, but he also knew he was hurt and scared.

Seeing the lines of pain on his son's face, Mac gave him a firm glare that ordered the teen desist his attempts to reach his friend psychically. Then, with a resigned sigh, he took the underpants carefully by the waistband; alleviating his son of the responsibility for making the psychic connection.

Sam opened his mouth but Caleb scooped up the little boy and pulled him onto his lap.

John swallowed as he anxiously watched his friend close his eyes. He didn't really understand how all that psychic shit worked but he knew Mac picked up recent moments, and emotions, the owner of an item had experienced before catching up to the present.

After a moment, Mac's eyes sprung open. He glared at John. John looked down. There was a pause of indecision but then Mac's eyes flicked over the two boys and he swallowed his anger down. Refocusing, he closed his eyes again. Caleb missed the interaction between the two older hunters. He was too busy whispering reassurances to Sam.

"Why would Dean be on a train?" Mac asked, frowning as he maintained the connection.

"Dean's on a train?" Sam's small voice asked.

"Not anymore," Mac said with a significant look at his son.

"My ankle," Caleb said with horror, understanding what his dad was implying.

"Where?" John was already standing and grabbing his coat from the back of his chair.

Mac gave him a stern look.

"I don't know. All I'm getting is a field beside a train track. There are no clear landmarks. I can keep trying but we need to hurry, he's hurt."

"Dean's hurt?" Sam said, clinging to the teenager he'd climbed onto, his eyes going to his dad. If Dean wasn't around to fix it, his dad would.

"There's an old rail yard a couple of miles away." John always made sure he was familiar with the area around anywhere they stayed, especially if they stayed for a while. "But Dean knows better than to run amok around rail lines."

"We all do things we know we shouldn't at times," Mac said with a hard look at the Knight. "Perhaps in the moment, his emotions got the better of him."

Dark thunder gathered in John's eyes and his hands fisted but he did not dispute the rebuke.

"We need to check for any trains that have left since Dean went out, best I can tell it was a freight train, not passenger. And someone will need to stay with Samuel," Mackland said, moving into practical Scholar-mode.

"So how do we find out what trains have left?" Caleb asked.

"We hope there is someone at the yard that can tell us. Freight schedules don't exactly have public timetables and trying to track one down will take too long," John said, swinging his jacket onto his arms. "Junior, you stay here with Sammy and …"

"No. I'm coming." Caleb glared at John. It was the older man's fault after all. If he hadn't yelled at Dean none of this would have happened. "We don't know exactly where he is. Once we get close, I will be able to locate him," Caleb argued when it looked like John was going to overrule him. Mackland's psychometry could give images of an area, feelings and experiences that lead to locations, but it wasn't a GPS. Caleb's skill wasn't really location at all, but he knew, when close enough, he could hone in on Dean, just as he had when he'd discovered the ability in the first place, after losing him in the Christmas crowds at Rockefeller Plaza.

John looked at the others in the room. Mac would be needed, he'd said Dean was hurt, and there was no way in hell John was staying behind if one of his boys was in trouble.

"Then I guess we're all going," he decided. "Sammy, get your coat."

SPNBROAU

Dean groaned. It was the third time he'd tried to stand but his stupid body had failed him again.

Despite his attempt to tuck and roll, the impact as he'd landed shot pain right through him. The angle of his fall had not been exactly what he'd been expecting and he'd felt the sharp stab as his ankle went sideways. As he'd been taught, he'd gone with the momentum, tucking tight as he rolled over and over without end.

His ankle was almost certainly broken, bruises and contusions covered what felt like every inch of skin and his attempts to protect his head hadn't been altogether successful. He rested it back against the ground, unable to hold it up any longer but still fighting the darkness that threatened to envelope him.

Pain can be overcome, he thought to himself, when needed, and right now he needed to get back to his family. Dean forced himself up to sitting, the world bounced on choppy waters for a moment but he focused on breathing and eventually it settled to a more gentle ebb and flow.

He looked at his ankle. His boot was providing some support but there was already some swelling. The constant dull throb blared the warning not to stand on, move, or even touch it. It was a warning Dean was going to have to ignore. He slipped off his shirt and started twisting it to try and create additional support without removing his boot.

He glanced around him as he worked, shivering in the cold air. He hadn't taken time to grab a jacket when he fled the apartment. Although, being further south, it didn't get as cold as when they visited New York, with the rain, no coat, and now no overshirt, his two remaining layers felt like meagre covering. But he didn't plan to be still for long.

There was nothing in his immediate vicinity that he could use as a splint or a crutch, he'd just have to manage. The field he'd rolled into was relatively flat which would make crossing it easier than more rugged terrain but also meant he had a depressingly long and empty view. Just how far had the train travelled before he'd woken? The rain had eased but the dark clouds that still blanketed the sky made it impossible for him to discern the time of day.

SPNBROAU

Caleb was left in the car with Sam while John and Mac headed into the train yard and approached the young man who was wandering along the track in a high visibility jacket, making notes on a clipboard. They had a fairly loose timeframe to work with. John wasn't certain what time Dean had left the house and they couldn't be sure how soon after leaving, Dean had come to the yard.

Personally, Caleb thought the place looked so derelict that he was surprised it was even in use. He suspected his best friend had thought it wasn't. Sam was clinging to him and the moment his father was out of range had started in on a string of questions Caleb hadn't the first clue how to answer. Instead, he focused on the map unrolled on his lap, checking for the best roads to keep them near the tracks.

Luckily John and Mac were not gone long and Sam fell silent when his father returned to the car.

"What have you got on the westbound?" John said, starting the engine.

Caleb's finger drifted across the page.

"Nothing running adjacent but I can keep us within a couple of miles."

"Mac? Anything that might narrow it down?"

Mac grimaced as he once again picked up the dirty underwear and closed his eyes.

John didn't wait, skidding the car back out onto the road.

They were crossing the tracks for the fourth time when Mac suddenly perked up. "This looks right." John pulled the car to the side of the road as Mac confirmed. "He's here."

They got out and surveyed the area. There was no clear sign of life, just a broad expanse of field with the tracks running through the middle.

Ignoring his dad's warning's, Caleb tried again to reach Dean. Relief washed through him, despite the spike of pain through his synapses, when he picked up a clear connection.

'Hold on Deuce, we're coming.'

SPNBROAU