I'm trying to update at least once a week but life has really gotten in my way so I apologize! Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy!

Dean's POV

I've been moving my entire life.

Haven't stopped moving since my father placed my baby brother in my arms and told me to run. Run as fast as I could.

And so that's exactly what I did.

And I've been moving ever since. There was always something to protect Sammy from, always something that kept me on my toes, kept me shifting the knife that took up a permanent residence beneath my pillow. Years and years of running.

I got pretty damn good at it too. Thought that maybe if I just kept moving, then maybe nothing would ever catch up to me. Maybe if I never stopped, I'd never have to lose again.

I was definitely wrong about that last part. But still, moving was good. It was what I had, what I knew. It kept me sane.

And now I'm going out of my mind.

I mean sure, I've been laid up plenty of times before. Hell I've even broken my leg before- had to sit with a cast for a good five and a half weeks before that got old and I sawed through it myself.

But this time is different.

This time it's not just a broken bone that will heal on its own. Sam says the damage went much deeper than that, says that angel bitch tore across a few muscles and severed some nerves while she was at it. Took me a while to coax the details out of him, and that told me all I needed to know about just how bad it is.

So yeah, this time is different. The possibility of never walking again is one I can't fathom. Makes me itch for one of the loaded guns beside my bed. So far it's only been two days, but those days have been endless. Unbearable. I can't take many more like it.

And Sam is quiet.

That moody silence that always pisses me off to no end and also scares the shit out of me. It's the calm that comes right before the storm. It was the calm that came right before Stanford, and that terrifies me, gives me that familiar feeling that writhes around deep in my gut and literally makes me sick.

Sam's silence is broken the first time he finds me bent over the toilet seat.

"I'm gonna find Cas," he says, cutting right across my personal space and handing me a glass of water. I wait for the dry heaves to stop before I take it from him, sipping slowly.

"Not on your own you're not," I say after my voice comes back to me. "Too dangerous. We just have to wait..." I stop, not sure how to continue. Not sure what we're supposed to wait for besides a goddamn miracle. Because without one, I'm not walking.

"Cas can help," Sam insists, replacing the now empty glass of water with a hand towel. I snatch it from his hands, shaking my head.

"Uh Sam? Are you forgetting that Cas is human now? I want him back home as much as you do, but he won't be able to help. And you're not going after him alone. End of story."

"Dean..."

"No Sam," I cut him off. "Besides, I uh...I need you here while I...ya know, recover and stuff." I grimace at the hopelessness that bleeds into my voice and at the obvious manipulation. But Sam can't leave. There's to many threats out there, and they're all gunning for us. I guess that part's nothing new, but the only reason we've survived this long is because we've always been there to have each other's backs.

And I can't protect him right now.

I watch the guilty look that graces Sam's face at my admission, feel him lean into me a little before he gains his feet and nods, starting to help me pull myself up behind him.

"Okay Dean. I'll stay," he says.

And then he takes off.

I can feel it the moment I open my eyes on the fourth day since our run-in with the angels. There's this deep, unfathomable emptiness in the pit of my stomach, and suddenly I know Sammy's gone.

I scream for him anyway.

I tear the covers off my legs and try to stand, but I can't even make it to the goddamned doorway before the pain in my leg becomes too much and I collapse onto my stomach. Please don't be gone. Please don't be gone. Not you too.

I push myself up onto my elbows, crawling slowly, grateful that my door is already open as I push my way past it into the hall.

Kevin finds me when I'm about halfway to the kitchen. I don't realize I'm still saying Sam's name out loud until he grabs my shoulders and pulls me up to my knees. My left leg screams at the strain and I let out a small whimper.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Kevin asks, his eyes skittering around the room, looking for any sign of danger.

"Sam," I whisper again. It's all I can say, all I can think. Gone. He's gonegonegone.

"Dean? What happened to Sam? Where is he? Talk to me! Please!" Kevin's really panicking now, shaking me just a little too hard.

"He's gone, Kev," I breathe, "he...left."

Everybody leaves you Dean. You noticed?

I shudder at the abrupt assailment of that particular memory. It's one I've buried deep.

Mommy. Daddy. Even Sam. Ever asked yourself why?

It's said in my mother's voice, though I know it wasn't really her who spoke the words. It was just a projection of her, conjured up by Zachariah when Sam and I were in Heaven- or at least some fucked up version of Heaven.

Kevin's still asking questions, begging for answers, but I'm too wrapped up in my own head, in my deepest fears.

Maybe it's not them. Maybe it's you.

"Gotta...gotta find him Kevin. We have to..." I can't form the words right so I stop and take a breath. Come on, keep it together.

"Check his GPS," I say on my next breath, the gears in my mind suddenly shifting back to logic, working on overtime. I know this isn't Stanford again. I know Sam's looking for something to help me. To save me from this newest nightmare. And if I wasn't so worried, I'd be grateful. After all, he'd done exactly what I would've.

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Kevin nods and he's on his feet in an instant. I'm thrown off balance by the sudden loss of his support and I flop onto the floor like a damn rag doll, face meeting tile.

"Uh, Kevin?" I call, licking fresh blood from a split lip and rolling onto my back, finally relieving the stress on my left leg. "A little help here please?"

"Oh...oh Dean I'm sorry!" Kevin rushes back to me, trying to pick me up. It takes a monumental effort and a few ridiculous attempts that I'm glad no one else sees, but we finally stumble back to my room, and Kevin lowers me slowly back down onto the bed.

"Hey," I call after him as he rushes from the room to track Sam's phone. He skitters back into the doorway like a cartoon character. "After you track him, you're gonna have to make a run. Stock up on gauze, bandages, some food for the road. And find me some crutches."

Kevin nods, already moving again.

"Kevin," I call after him, "get some pie."

Thanks for reading. I always appreciate your comments!