Dean pushed his brother's too long bangs out of his face, his eyes closed, respirator forcing air into his lungs, and Dean sighed. He put his forehead on top of his clasped hands.

"Sir, is there anything I can do for you?" Dean's secret service detail, Mark, asked.

"For the love of God, go away. I was able to wipe my own ass for 31 years, I don't need your help now. Just go away."

"Yes, sir."

"And quit calling me sir!" He yelled as the man in the black suit closed the door. "You gotta get better Sammy. This is stupid. I can only watch so much television and look at porn sites on your computer for so long." Dean laughed and not for the first time wished to see the patented Sammy Winchester Bitch Face. "I feel like I'm trapped. They won't let me out, they say it's too dangerous, and the only reason I stay is because they are keeping you alive, and they are doing everything in their power to help Bobby walk again. It's the only reason I haven't high tailed it out of here." He gave a small laugh. "That and every single person on the planet knows what I look like, and judging from the amount of security around this place they must want to attack me."

"More like touch you." Chuck said as he entered the room. There were very few people allowed to enter the room where Sam Winchester, emaciated, and defenseless, and Chuck Surly was on the short list.

"What?"

"The people out there…want you….like really want you."

"What in the hell does that mean?"

"You are a religious experience." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on."

"That's what it is out there. There is a pilgrimage."

"That's….that's just disturbing." Chuck nodded and came closer.

"How is he?"

"The same."

"Is he…?" Dean shrugged and turned back to his little brother.

"I don't know. I don't know anything. I'm not allowed out of this damn cage, and I'm about to go crazy. There is a world out there and I'm stuck here, guarded by the freaking men in black---complete with those ray band things no less, and I don't even have my brother to talk to, and I love Bobby and all, but he's even more grouchy than usual. I want out."

Chuck looked up and then back down, looking for all of the world like he was debating on whether or not to give Dean bad news.

"Spit it out Chuck."

"You aren't going to like this."

"Do I need to remind you again, that I didn't like hell?"

Chuck sighed and said, "You probably won't ever get out of here."

Dean's blood ran cold and his face went pale. "What do you mean?"

"You are being worshiped, you and Sam. It's weird."

"That's wrong. I shouldn't be worshipped!? I started the damn apocalypse in the first place. What is wrong with these people?!"

"They don't know the beginning, they just know the two of you saved the world from eternal damnation. They are pretty grateful."

"I don't want them to be that grateful. I want my life back."

"If you ask me Dean this life is pretty sweet."

"I've never wanted to live some place like this. My life is out there. On the road. With my brother. Hunting things and saving people. Not being locked up like a golden bird, something to be starred at and adored. That's just stupid. What's wrong with these people?!" He asked as he stood and motioned to the window. "If they knew me. I mean knew me they wouldn't be so quick to jump the let's adore him bandwagon."

"A lot of them do know you Dean." Dean gave Chuck a disbelieving look and sat back down next to Sam.

"They don't know me Chuck. They know what the TV feeds them."

"No. The people you've saved. They know you." Dean huffed and starred at his brother.

"You hear that Sammy? They think they know me."

"They all tell a story of a man who saved their lives and didn't want anything in return. They tell the story of a young man who sat with their mothers and fathers as they cried and waited to hear if they were going to be okay. They weren't the people you saved from demons, or monsters. They are the ones you saved from just bad stuff. They know you and want the best for you."

"Whatever."

"You can think that Dean." Chuck got up and started for the door.

"So, is that where you've been?"

"What?"

"Talking to these people?" Chuck nodded. "Why?"

"The world needs to know."

"They know enough about me."

"Like you said, they know what the TV feeds them." Chuck closed the door on his way out.