"Easy Sammy, nice and easy." Dean is guiding me through the door of the bunker, a steady hand at my back, waiting to catch me if I waver for more than half a step.

"Dean, chill out. I'm fine. Seriously," I shoot back, shrugging off his help. I roll my eyes and easily make my way towards the enormous table that sits in what can only be described as our dining room. It's still a foreign concept to me- having a dining room; having a home. A place of comfort to come back to after a far too lengthy stay in the hospital. I smile a little to myself, settling into the chair closest to my laptop and firing it up.

Dean watches me for a moment and gives an approving nod, seemingly convinced that I'm not going into cardiac arrest anytime soon, before shuffling off towards the kitchen.

"I'm making lunch," he calls over his shoulder, "What do you feel like having?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes again. "Dean, we ate like two hours ago. I'm not hungry, man."

I hear the muffled clanging of pots and pans, followed by a short beat of silence, and then Dean charges back into the room, eyes wide, the words flowing a little too quickly.

"Sam, you've got to eat. You've got to get your strength back. We need you back on board here, I can't do this all on my own..." he pleads, and then seems to catch his breath, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. "So what do you want to eat? If you don't answer, I'm making spaghetti."

I groan and throw a plastic coaster in his direction, missing by inches. The hospital I had been staying in seemed to have only one dinner option- spaghetti. I'd been forced to eat it for the past few weeks. Just the thought of it made me nauseous at this point, and Dean knows it. And I know he wouldn't be above making me eat more of it if I don't answer his question. "Anything but spaghetti. Can you make me a sandwich or something? Whatever you made that one time when..."

"You got it, Sammy," he replies before I can finish, his signature grin now completely back in place as he strides purposefully back into the kitchen. I don't have much time to process the sudden shift in mood before the clanging resumes.

"But Dean..."

"No Sam. No." His words ring with big brother authority. I hate it when he uses that on me. It's been almost a week since the angels fell and Dean is still unbearably cautious with me. He's convinced I'm going to fall to pieces, so I've been confined to my bed while the world around us is thrust into chaos. At the moment though, I'm pacing the length of the kitchen in frustration.

"Dean, this is the best lead we've had so far. This could really be it. I need to come with you..."

"Sam, he isn't the enemy. This isn't going to come to a fight. If Cas is really..." he breathe hitches on the name and he averts his eyes from my face, trying to collect himself. "Look. If Cas is alive, I need to find him. And I can't be worrying about you the whole time. You're still a long way from one hundred percent. Please, Sam. It may already be too late for Cas. I can't lose you too. Please."

He's begging, pleading, and it kills me. Especially since he knows exactly what he's doing. He'll win this argument. He won it the moment his eyes started to glisten with unshed tears. And I know he's right. I'm still weak, weaker than I'd like to admit. The tired ache hasn't yet left my bones, but I know I'm getting better. I just need time. Time we don't have.

"Fine," I say after a long silence. "Fine."

I make my way back to our dining room and start to power up my laptop, mostly because there's nothing else to do. Dean nods and suddenly becomes a flurry of movement. Within the hour, he's ready to move out to the newest lead, a small town just north of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The familiarity of that particular town still elicits a gnawing in the pit of my stomach. Bobby's death is still so fresh in my mind, especially after finding out that he'd spent the past year rotting in Hell. I watch Dean as he mulls about the room, mentally checking items off his list, making sure I have all the things I need so I don't keel over in the few days he'll be gone. Finally, he picks up his duffel, shuffling towards the door. He hesitates on the threshold, waiting to speak until I glance up from my computer.

"Look," he grunts, "I left you a whole week's worth of food and it better be gone by the time I get back." I roll my eyes and start in with a retort about mother hens, but Dean's expression has shifted and it stops me. He's suddenly rigid. Lethal. The glare is so intense that I have the strong urge to glance behind me and make sure a wendigo hasn't materialized out of thin air. Jeez. Apparently Dean's obsession with food has expanded to include my consumption as well. Kind of ridiculous, but I know my brother won't leave until I give some kind of acknowledgement, so I nod.

"Sure Dean, I'll eat. Be safe and call if you need me."

And he's out the door.

My goodness I'm not moving very quickly on this one, sorry about that! Next chapter will have more action plus an appearance by a fan favorite. Pretty sure you can guess who. Should be updated again fairly soon. Thanks for reading!