The Impala was as much a part of Dean as one of his limbs. The emotional connection with what Sam had once viewed as nothing more than a collection of metal and leather had long been a source of amusement for the younger brother. But sharing time on the road in the old Chevy had opened up Sam's eyes to a simple, sentimental side of the usually complicated Dean and he understood all too well now that the car was not just a car.

And right now the car was a loud speaker for the silent thoughts in his brother's mind. Sam clutched the seat tightly with his right hand and braced his left arm against the dash as the Impala tore through the dark countryside. Dean had not muttered a single word since they had left the outskirts of the town but the way he drove spoke volumes. The engine loud and the cornering tight, Dean was mad as hell.

"I'm sorry." Sam offered into the silence of the interior.

Dean kept his gaze fixed, his grip tight and his speed constant.

Sam's lips tightened and his nostrils flared as he felt frustrated anger rising. "It wasn't entirely my fault, y'know ..."

And that got a look. A brief like hell and then more silence.

"And besides … it worked. Well, it did at first." Sam insisted nervously, hating the lack of response he was receiving. "I mean, it's a chaos demon - of sorts - and I just needed a diversion to lead the Feds from our trail and you have to admit that part worked okay. Until Bobby interfered." Sam pursued quietly, turning to look out of the window and frowning in annoyance at the night that blurred past him.

And then he felt the Impala begin to slow. Flicking his gaze back forward, sure to see yet another set of blue strobes that they would need to swerve off the highway to avoid, Sam saw only darkness beyond the headlight beams. Knowing the only other reason for Dean to ease off the gas, he turned to his brother and saw that his frown had softened.

Turning in his seat and relaxing his vice-grip on the seat, Sam waited for his brother to speak. Even mad as hell angry, Dean was an excellent driver and putting his thoughts into words meant he had a little less concentration and hence the car would slow. It was a rhythm Sam had soon learned to read.

"You. Summoned. A. Demon."

His heart racing, Sam heard the disappointment in Dean's quiet voice and had to still the instant stubborn rebuke that wanted to break out.

Dean glanced over at Sam and gave a small shrug, offering nothing more.

Sam frowned in confusion, wondering if this short statement was all he was getting. And then thinking that perhaps it was all he needed. He looked away to study his hands and consider his response. If there was one.

"Shit!"

Sam looked up quickly and saw the bright florescent lines that marked out the patrol cars waiting at the junction ahead of them. Looking out into the darkness, Sam could make out the moonless sky sweeping over suddenly open countryside. Glancing at Dean, he could see the same thought crossing his brother's face; there was nowhere to hide.

Decelerating at a much faster rate but still quickly approaching the wide crossroads clearly lit in the headlights, they rolled along the road in silence. They were in trouble: turning around would raise suspicion and also led straight back to the very chaos they were fleeing.

Frantic 911 calls from just about every terrified resident in the town had mobilized the sheriff and generous back-up from the surrounding towns. Not wanting to chance seeking cover amid the panic that had erupted when killer birds had attacked, they had instead decided to get the hell out of there and away from the many law enforcement agencies congregating in the town.

Sam frowned as he peered out at the waiting cars gathered at the junction and could now see the unmarked black sedans waiting behind the patrol vehicles. Glancing at Dean, he knew his brother had also seen them and he closed his eyes.

"Sam? That one of yours?"

Flicking his head back up, Sam followed Dean's gaze out of his side window and gasped in fright. A large crow flew casually along beside them, matching their speed and keeping a constant distance a few feet from the car.

"Sam!"

"I … I don't know!" Sam stammered, sitting up straight. He then looked out of the opposite window and saw four more of the black birds in a similar formation. His breathing quick, he tried to recall Malphas' words and then remembered his brief explanation of how he altered perception. "They change how things appear … I think … well …"

The roadblock was approaching fast. Dean glanced between the officers signaling for him to pull over and his confused, frightened brother.

The birds then suddenly pulled away and sped in front of the Impala. Instant understanding dawned as Sam watched the birds climb out of the headlight beam and swoop down towards the roadblock.

"Well?" Dean urged impatiently.

"It'll be okay." Sam nodded.

Dean nodded and pressed his foot to the floor.

"No!" Sam gasped in horror, feeling the sharp acceleration and grabbing at the dash for support. "I don't mean - !" He saw the officers react and ducked instinctively, shielding his face with his arms as they impacted with the front edge of the first car.

The old pick-up sat nestled behind a tall hedge and waited. Hidden from the road but close enough to the town just in case, they had pulled off and now sat in silence at the edge of the small forest.

"Which way would they have gone?" Ellen asked quietly, her low voice suddenly loud in the silence that filled the cab.

"The Feds came into the town from the south." Bobby responded in all but a whisper. "Dean will have gone north." He turned to Ellen and saw the instant question in her tired face. "Or maybe not."

"So, what do we do now?"

Bobby took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the seat as he sighed out a groan. "Wait for a sign."

"A sign?"

Bobby turned up the volume on the radio and police chatter sputtered out intermittently. "If the Feds really are headed this way, they'll be using local law enforcement to watch the roads."

"That's pretty thin, Bobby." Ellen argued, "Dean knows as well as any of us how to stay hidden." She saw the small smile that twitched under Bobby's shaggy beard and nodded slowly. "You don't want to hear anything, do you …?"

Bobby shook his head, "I just want to be sure."

"You don't mean to follow them?"

Turning to look into Ellen's soft face once again, Bobby's eyes betrayed just how much he needed to find the two brothers and hold them close. But he shook his head slowly and cleared his tight throat. "We'll wait here in case we're needed and then we'll head north-west."

Ellen frowned, "The roadhouse?"

"Ash can track the demon and I can finish the job." Bobby felt Ellen shudder slightly and recalled how well attacking the demon head on had worked so far. "I just can't take the risk that it'll get to Sam."

Ellen watched Bobby in interest and a gentle frown wrinkled her brow. "You know way more than you're letting on."

Bobby made no reply.

"Tell me." Ellen moved a little closer to Bobby and placed her hand on his arm. "What did John tell you about him?"

"I …" Bobby kept his face away from her imploring eyes and shook his head. "It's a long

story …"

"Good," Ellen smiled softly, "It'll help pass the time."

Sam slowly chanced lowering his arms, his body rocking back and forth as the Impala bounced and thudded over the muddy terrain. Sighing out the breath he had been holding for what seemed an age and gasping in shock, he stared in disbelief at the cracked windshield.

Three perfect round holes punctured the glass, a spider-web of cracks surrounding them and streaking out towards the edges of the screen.

"Holy crap!" Sam husked, his throat dry. He shook his head slowly, full realization of what had just happened taking its time to sink in. "Holy shit! Dean? Are you insane?" He span towards his brother and stared at him in horror, "You were supposed to stop!"

Dean seemed to ignore him, his attention focused on the uneven terrain that he could barely make out amid the bouncing headlight beams.

"I meant that we'd be ok if we stopped!" Sam continued, exasperated. He looked behind them and sighed in disbelief. "I can't believe you just did that! Shit! They'll be rounding up a full-on manhunt!"

Looking back at Dean and seeing his lack of interest, Sam's frown grew and he groaned loudly. Then seeing his brother turning off the headlights and gasping as they were plunged into darkness, Sam looked out into the night and sighed in dismay. "What? We're gonna hide out here? Oh, great idea, Dean! Yeah, it's not like the FBI don't know how to follow your tyre tracks or anything!"

The Impala continued along the edge of the field, bouncing over grass-hills and dipping into plough furrows. As Sam's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out a darker shadow against the star-filled sky and gave another impatient sigh. "A barn? We're gonna hide out in a barn? What you want them to find us? Dean? Have you completely lost it, man? I mean, this place just screams 'hey, bad guys are in here'!"

Dean eased the Chevy around the side of the barn, putting the large wooden building between them and the road beyond the field.

"Great." Sam slammed his hands into his lap and gave a derisive snort. "Fabulous plan. And he says I'm crazy!"

"Sam …"

"Fuck!" Sam shouted in frustrated anger, "I so can't believe you just rammed a road block! Great way to stay low, Dean."

"Sam."

Sam shook his head and peered out at the endless expanse of varying shades of grays, blacks and darkest blues of the midnight countryside. His hot, angry breath wafting a cloud on the inside of the window, he stared beyond the glass and his mind was racing. After a moment he spun back and could just see his brother's ghost-like image in the darkness of the car. "Just … what were you thinking, dude …?"

"Sam, I - "

"No, seriously, Dean. Enlighten me as to the genius of your latest idea." He waited impatiently for his brother to respond, his hands shaking as adrenaline still charged around his body. And then something about his brother's silence made his skin go cold. He should have been arguing, fighting, defending. Sam's breathing slowed and he edged a little closer, suddenly afraid that his brother had gone past the point of no return and really had lost his mind.

Sam could feel his body calming and began to regret his outburst, sure that his brother was now upset with him. It was classic Dean upset pose; arms locked straight against the steering wheel, face staring forward and avoiding eye contact with Sam.

"Sammy …?"

"Yeah." Sam shuffled even closer but instantly froze as Dean suddenly groaned and hung his head, his elbows giving way slightly and his head sinking forward. Sure that his brother was fighting back tears and remorse making his chest ache, Sam reached out and placed his hand on Dean's arm.

"I think - "

Sam waited patiently for his brother to continue, remembering how moments like these usually resulted in an unexpected bombshell that he had no reply to and sent his mind reeling. I ought to have stayed dead, I'm tired of this life, Dad said I might have to kill you. And that moment yesterday when all strength seemed to have left Dean and he seemed to be mourning all over again their mother's death, unsure if any of what they had achieved together was even worth it.

"I think I'm hit."

Sam frowned. It didn't make sense. And then, in an instant, Sam remembered the holes in the windscreen and the world seemed to stop spinning. Then he was opening his door to make the interior light come on, blinking in the sudden brightness and seeing his brothers deathly pale, exhausted face.

"Where?" Sam demanded, panic building faster than his shaking hands could keep up with as he checked Dean's frozen form. His breath coming in rapid sobs, he grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled it open. His hands brushed against wet cotton and tears stung in his eyes. "Oh god, no!" He husked, seeing the blood soaked flannel shirt.

Dean looked down and grimaced as he saw the blood, letting out a gentle whimper of fear. As is finally having proof of what he had been so far been able to somehow ignore, his shoulders sank and he began to slowly shake his head in disbelief and sorrow.

His fingers trembling, Sam grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled it upwards. His brother made a sound like Sam had punched him in the abdomen and Dean doubled over, his forehead thudding against the steering wheel between his fists.

Sam flinched back from Dean and wiped away tears, watching his brother's face grow tight with the pain he fought against. After a moment, he heard Dean release a sigh and Sam moved in a little nearer. "Let me look."

Tensing against the pain that even the slightest movement caused, Dean hissed through clenched teeth and sat back upright. He winced sharply as Sam again lifted the shirt clear and then opened his eyes, chancing taking a look at his brother and seeing the horror on Sam's face.

"Aw, shit!" Dean grated, slumping back against the seat and letting his head sink to the side. He rested his cheek on the cold glass and sighed a cloud on the window.

Sam could not tear his eyes from the gently weeping hole in Dean's skin, his vision blurred by tears. He then saw the blood at the base of the bench seat and frowned slightly, noticing that it didn't meet with the dark patch on the front of Dean's jeans. Pulling the flannel shirt out from behind Dean and hearing the sob of pain it caused, Sam saw the soaked material and his heart sank.

Dean tensed against Sam's touch and moaned in protest as his brother tried to roll him away from the seat. "Ow! Sammy, no!"

"Oh, shit, Dean …" Sam muttered, easing his brother forward and seeing the bullet hole in the leather covering the back of the seat.

"Please - !" Dean panted, his eyes shut tightly as he was gently eased back against the seat. Letting go of the steering wheel, he lost his support and shuddered as he slumped against the door.

"Fuck." Sam breathed, seeing the sweat that glistened on Dean's milky skin. He grabbed Dean's arm and pressed his fingers against the inside of his wrist. Fast and irregular. Not good.

Dean opened his eyes and turned his head slightly, yawning wearily as he tried to catch his breath. He saw Sam studying his cellphone and frowned slightly. "No … no hosp -" He closed his eyes and moaned softly.

"Fuck that." Sam countered sternly.

"No!" Dean insisted, "5-0, Sam - "

"I know!" Sam insisted, a little too harshly, "I'm not calling 911, dammit! I'm calling Bobby."

Dean gave a small nod and his face then creased into a wince of pain. "Sam?"

"I'm here, Dean." Sam managed tearfully, moving closer and grabbing Dean's hand, choking back on a sob as he felt how cold his fingers were. He put his phone to his ear and rested his forehead against Dean's shoulder, hearing the gentle whimper hitched on the end of each of Dean's labored breaths.

"Sam - ?"

"Yeah." Sam assured, hearing the call connect and the dialing tone kick in.

"I'm … I'm so- ...sorry."

"What for?" Sam lifted his head and watched Dean suddenly calm, his eyes closing. "Dean!" He nudged his shoulder and gasped as he got no response. "Dean!" He shook his brother roughly and sobbed in panic, then gasped as he heard the voice in his earpiece. "Bobby!" He cried into the handset. "Oh god, Bobby! I need your help!"