Disclaimer: The last time I checked, I don't own Supernatural.

Author's Note: Thanks to those who have reviewed and added to favorites. This helps in motivating me to write more.

Again, I don't have a beta reader, so all mistakes are my own.

Chapter Two

On the Road

The two men woke before morning. Although the bitter cold was brutal during the early hours, the journey was less treacherous. The butcher gangs hunted late in the day and into the evening. Yet, thieves and cutthroats were unpredictable.

Bobby didn't worry about them so much. The two travelers had nothing but the rags on their back, cardboard shoes, and an overnight bag Cas carried on his back. The bundle wasn't even half full, just a pocket knife, a lighter, two pairs of socks, a razor, and a carefully wrapped bar of soap that was thinning quickly. Three days ago, they had a can of sweet corn which tragically turned out to be spoiled. Thieves only wanted shoes, ammunition and food; they had none.

A frigid wind brushed past them causing the dust and soot collecting on the road to whip up against their already dusty garments. The old man sneezed, the young man coughed.

"I dreamed of the 'Clean-man' last night." Cas chimed while drumming the air in front of his chest with his finger tips. He did this continuously, even when he was not talking. Bobby believed it was more of a habit than a nervous tick and never questioned the boy about it.

"Did yah, now," the old man commented with a ghost of a smile. "Did you two have a nice talk?" Conversation, even when it becomes monotonous, is a good distraction on the road. It helps in forgetting about aching feet and empty bellies, even if it's for a short period of time. The 'Clean-man' has been the conversation for the past two months. Cas talks as if he was walking with the two of them. Although Cas's description of his dream friend is limited, Bobby sometimes got the feeling that the boy believed this man was real, flesh and bone.

"Yeah, he-he-he says-he says he has a very im_impo_import_job."

"Important job?"

"YEAH, and-and-and, want to know some't else?" The sweet boy's words always seem to falter whenever he gets excited or anxious about something. These days, his friend couldn't complete a full sentence without fumbling over his own tongue. "He says we cant_we cant…. OH! I CANT REMEMBER!" Stopping his light trek and crumbling into the grungy asphalt, tears streaking down his dirty face, the young man began to repeat his words in a whisper, or perhaps more accurately a prayer.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay." Bobby repeated patting his back in assurance. "It was just a dream. You need to stop cryin' now; we gotta go."

Wiping his nose on his dirty sleeve, Cas blinked the tears out of his eyes. "But-but-but it was_it was impor," his tongue got stuck again.

Here he was kneeling in the middle of the road trying his best to console his mentally deficient friend, who was more worried about what some guy said in a dream, than what was going on in the real world. Bobby bit his tongue. He was not blessed with a great amount of patience. He wanted to scream, to shake Cas and tell him to GET THE HELL OVER IT AND MOVE HIS ASS. The old man was just so exhausted. He didn't want to lose it with Cas.

"B, you sad?" Castiel's query jarred him from his own thought. Looking into those big blue eyes overflowing with concern, his face weather worn and streaked with muddy tears, his stubble more pronounced, Bobby could almost hear his own heart breaking. Choking back his tears the ageing man nodded to his friend. They had walked so far and had witnessed so much death and disaster and still didn't know if the rumors were true. Will there be a light at the end of this long and terrible tunnel? He could only hope. Yet, these days hope, faith is as hard to come by as food and shoes.

Cupping Cas's muddy face, Bobby cracked a pained smile, "Come on, buddy, we gotta go."

"Yeah." Using the pavement for leverage both men heaved themselves up and continued down the road.

"B?" Cas looked at his comrade walking along side him, his fingers ever painting the air.

"Hmm?" The old man wondered if he was going to get a quiet moment today, but decided it was better this way. Silence isn't always golden.

"Is there goin' to be people there_there at the-the-the light_place?"

Bobby smiled. The kid could never get the name right. "You mean lighthouse?"

"Yeah, will there be-be-be people_people like us, good-good-good guys?"

Bobby Singer didn't answer right away. He couldn't. Hell, he didn't know if the place existed or was still in operation. They hadn't seen even a clue of a rumor for months. But he couldn't give up, he had to know if the Lighthouse really did exist or if he was just chasing fairytales. "I hope so, son, I sure hope so."