Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine. Bah!

A/N: For those reading Hunter's Fatigue... I WILL get back to it! It's taking so long because I've never written a multi-chapter sick!character story before, so... I will get to it. Only posting this because I went nuts last week and wrote a little more than I expected to.

Special thanks: To Merisha for betaing and KaoruKamiya307 (see, I DID capitalize it properly!) for keeping me on track. And, of course, to everyone who reviewed! Merisha, Kaorukamiya307, Stargazer86, Primadonna Cat, ArmagonAuthor, Shinaria, and Lilithakaducky! Ya'll rock so hard! And to everyone who didn't review... I know you wanted to. *winkwinknudgenudge* But in all seriousness, thank you EVERYONE so much for reading!

Videos of the Week:

youtube. com/watch?v=ReCTH_WieqY (This one just seemed appropriate)

youtube. com/watch?v=H4X78F_Ei5g (because the boys are badass)

youtube. com/watch?v=kOyiu19bWWs (This one makes you smile. Come on, you can admit it.)

Chapter 6:

The perimeter around the office was clean, which was probably a good thing. No sulfur meant this hadn't been caused by a demon. No scorch marks, fractured body parts, or extra-dead grass meant he could rule out most of the fuglies he could think of, and of the ones that were left... well, he really didn't want to deal with anything that could take out a bus station like that. Jimmy probably didn't, either, making it all the more important that he find the man.

His boots crunched against the broken glass that littered the covered patio next to the office, his heart sinking. He remembered the feel of the shards cutting into his arms in that gas station in Illinois, the hum of Castiel's voice tearing his ears apart only after doing him the pleasure of flinging him onto the floor.

Four of the people in the office had been bleeding from their ears.

His stomach clenched as his eyes landed on a bundle of fabric abandoned by one of the payphones. Shit. Dean hurried to the bundle, already sure he knew what it was... and yes. The moment he knelt down and picked it up, he knew it was the tan trenchcoat Castiel and Jimmy had been wearing for the past year, and the cheap black jacket beneath was unmistakably a part of a three piece suit that neither had removed in that same time.

"Dammit," he hissed, dropping the garments and running a hand over his face. This wasn't what he'd come for. It should have been a simple pick-up, but evidently they'd arrived a little late. Wearily, he began to scan the open field, praying for some sign of-

There. A figure collapsed at the far end of the field, almost at the tree-line.

"Sam!" he yelled, his legs already propelling him forward, heart pumping as he raced against the dread that welled in his heart.

Oh God, no, please no I'm sorry I didn't mean for this to happen I didn't mean for any of this Oh God please be alive, please, I never meant for this to happen...

Halfway across the field, he heard Sam catch up to him, but he didn't slow down; not until he reached the prone figure on the ground, and then he threw on the brakes, going from sixty to zero in no time flat, dropping to his knees next to the pale, prone man. He was still, too still for Dean's liking...

"Hey, hey!" he barked, reaching down and gripping Jimmy's shoulder tightly.

Don't move him, not until you can assess the damage Oh God his back could be broken, he could be paralyzed because we were too late...

Jimmy started at the touch, blue eyes flying wide open, neck stiff as he turned his head from side to side in disoriented confusion.

"Jimmy? Hey, Jimmy, can you tell me what happened?" Dean said in his best John Winchester voice.

Jimmy's head swiveled in his direction. His brows furrowed as his mouth bobbed open and closed. All that came out were incoherent mumbles, which only seemed to frighten the guy further.

"It's okay," Sam breathed, reaching out to take the man's arm.

Jimmy started, so hard he might as well have been electrocuted, a strangled yelp escaping his uncertain lips as he jacknifed upward and scrambled to escape the touch. Sam sat frozen, hand still outreached. It took him only a moment to mask the naked pain on his face, his features smoothing into an expression of steady assurance.

"We need to get him out of here," he cautioned lowly.

Does 'duh' mean anything to you, Sam, or did they neglect to teach it to you at college?

But Dean nodded and turned back to their charge. Jimmy had gone pale and he shivered, his breaths coming in short gasps as his eyes roamed wildly.

"Can you stand?" Dean asked.

Jerkily, Jimmy tilted his head and stared at him, and damn if he didn't look just like Castiel at that moment. The thought tugged at something in Dean's chest, and he had to reign in his thoughts before they ran to the grim places the angel might be. He had to focus on the present; the apocalypse, Sammy, and the scared, confused man who couldn't quite catch his breath.

"All right, come on," Dean instructed, reaching under the smaller man's arms and heaving him up. Jimmy allowed himself to be lifted, legs scrambling uncertainly in the dirt for several moments before he managed to found his footing, though Dean still carried most of his weight.

Wait. Dirt.

Dean frowned, taking in the sight of the field for the first time. Every inch of it was covered with dead, yellow-brown grass, save for the place where they'd found Jimmy. Where he'd been thrown, maybe? It was the best explanation for the earthy track left in the otherwise flawless field. What could throw a man with enough force that he would take out a section of grass when he landed? Too many things, actually. None of them pleasant.

It was time to go.

"Come on," Dean encouraged, gently urging Jimmy to follow him. But the man was barely able to keep his knees from collapsing, much less manuever one foot in front of the other. The way he was shaking, even that was progress.

"I think he's in shock, Dean," Sam breathed.

Again. Duh. Dude, get a dictionary already!

"Yeah, probably," Dean grunted. Jimmy glanced from Dean to Sam and back again, and for the first time Dean noted the dilated pupils. Dammit. He really didn't have time for this.

"Sorry, dude, but we're in a hurry," Dean grunted and, in one swift motion, grabbed the man's knees and threw him up and over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Jimmy stiffened and gasped, but thankfully didn't fight as Dean began to haul him across the field.

"Get the door, Sam," Dean grunted, clumsily tossing Sam the keys with his free hand. Sam rushed ahead, throwing open the back door of the Impala just as Jimmy went completely limp over his shoulder. It probably wasn't a good thing, medically speaking, but at least Dean didn't have to deal with trying to ease a panicking man into the back seat.

I'll take little favors where I can get 'em.

The brothers loaded themselves into the front seat, speeding back to Bobby's just as the flashin red-and-blue lights of the ambulance appeared in the rear view mirror.

o-o-o

"And you just found him like this?" Bobby hissed, his eyes flicking back to the prone figure on the couch. Jimmy lay limply on the cushions, tucked under a thin blanket as he slept.

"Yeah. He couldn't even walk. Out cold by the time I got him to the car."

Bobby sighed and removed his hat just long enough to run one callused hand through his hair, then returned it. Shaking his head, he turned and stared at Jimmy for a long time. The man looked too small, too pale lying there. By rights they should have taken him to a hospital, but it was hard to decide whether the demons hunting for a vessel or the freaking apocalypse was a bigger risk at the moment. Jimmy Novak would just have to make do with what little they could provide.

"You think it was the angels?" Bobby asked lowly.

"Looks like it," Dean murmured. "Question is, what'd they do to him? And why'd they do it in the first place?"

"You and Sam didn't figure anything out?"

Dean scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. The moment they had returned to Bobby's, Sam had gone straight back to the panic room, looking as dejected and forlorn as a lost puppy.

"Naw, he didn't say much once we got in the car," Dean admitted. "Just kinda... sat there. It was like I was the only lucid person in the car, Bobby."

"Maybe you were."

Dean's stomach lurched.

"You think Sam's already started to detox?"

"Probably. Doin' what he did to Lilith probably took a lot of mojo. Mighta sped it up a little."

"I dunno, Bobby. I don'It hear any screaming, do you?"

Bobby fixed Dean with his familiar "You're-an-idjit" look.

"The circumstances are a little different, Dean."

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Bobby cleared his throat.

"Listen, Dean, I know this is difficult right now. But pretty soon we're gonna have to come up with some kinda plan of action. It's gonna be close to twenty-four hours since the final seal broke, and nothin' catastrophic seems to have happened yet. Which means when something does happen, it's gonna be enormous."

"Yeah, I know, I just..." Dean trailed off. Here he was, doing exactly what the angels had wanted of him. Taking command, taking it as a given that he was going to fight. To lay his life and his soul and his sanity on the line. Or was that just his dad's training kicking in? Seemed no matter where he turned, the whole world expected something out of him. "Let's just take care of the home front until something turns up. Get Sam through his detox, snap Jimmy out of... whatever this is. Then we'll think of something to do."

o-o-o

Sam tapped his leg anxiously, licking his lips as his stomach rolled. How long had he been locked down in this room?

Didn't matter. He had let Ruby play with him, feeding off of his fears and desires like the leech she was. He'd let her turn him into the very thing he'd been fighting all this time. He choked down a breath as his mind replayed the events of the last few days over and over in his head. He'd knocked Bobby unconscious with the butt of a shotgun. He'd thrown Dean across a room like a rag doll, wrapped his fingers around his brother's throat, and squeezed, as though snuffing out the life of his opposition would make him right, would make everything he had to do that much easier.

At least he hadn't actually done any damage. He couldn't. That had to count for something, right? It meant he wasn't a complete monster, didn't it?

"Sam."

Sam stiffened, his heart tightening as though something had reached in and squeezed it.

It's just a hallucination. Whatever he says, it's not real.

That didn't make it any easier to turn on that lumpy little bed and see his father standing in the shadows, stricken with mingled fear and grief and anger.

"Dad," he breathed.

John Winchester scowled, stepping out of the shadows; the light only made his expression that much more terrifying.

"Dammit, Sam," he growled through clenched teeth, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why'd you go and do this to yourself?"

"I was trying to help," Sam pleaded, his face growing warm. "I thought... I thought if I was strong enough, maybe I could-"

"You handed yourself to the demons!" John howled, grabbing Sam the scruff of his shirt and dragging him up. "After everything I taught you, everything this family has been through, I thought that you would understand the importance of keeping vigilant."

"That's something coming from you, dad," Sam whispered, when he should have shouted. "If you had so much faith in me, why'd you tell Dean to kill me?"

John's eyes widened, and for a moment Sam couldn't help wondering just whom it was that had given him his famous 'puppy dog' eyes.

"It was a precaution," John murmured.

"And for that matter," Sam went on, prying his father's fists off his shirt. "You have no right to condemn anyone for their involvement with demons. You sold your soul to bring Dean back. Do you have any idea how broken he was?"

"You don't know how hard it was," John choked. "Being a father-"

"Well, that was the first time you acted like one," Sam snapped. "Raising us the way you did. On the run, rootless, homeless... There are plenty of hunters with homes and families and lives outside of the job."

John stepped back, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, isn't this just where we always ended up?" he mused. "You and I always struggled with each other, but I don't think we're fighting to be right, Sammy." He raised his eyes knowingly. "We're fighting for power. Always have been. Guess since I left, you finally managed to grab it."

Sam reeled, the words hitting him like a sucker punch to the gut.

"Dad, no, I didn't-"

"Guess I can't blame you," his father sighed. "All your life, your brother and I took your control away. Makes sense that, when both of us are gone, you'd overcompensate a bit."

"I was trying to help, Dad," Sam insisted, reaching out to grab his father's shoulder, but John shook him off.

"Guess I did about all the damage I could do. I'm done here."

"Dad, please, don't go!" Sam begged around the lump that had formed in his throat, but John turned and walked back into the shadows. He didn't even bother to look back, just disappeared the moment the dark enveloped him.

Sam sank back onto the bed, his breath hitching as hot tears slipped down his cheeks.