Sam looked up in surprise as Dean entered Bobby's kitchen. He thought for sure he'd sleep until noon or later like he had at the hospital. It was seven in the morning. "So, Sammy, where's that food you were talking about?" His brother asked with a crooked grin. Sam wanted to tell him to get back into bed, Dean looked like Death; not that Sam knew what Death looked like since he'd never met the legendary horseman, but he probably had the same hollow look about him. He quickly stood and pulled a chair out from the table for Dean to sit in. His brother rolled his eyes, but sat, more like fell, into the proffered chair. Sam turned to the fridge, but Bobby was already there pulling eggs and bacon and a myriad of other stuff out and setting it on the counter. He frowned wondering how Bobby could still move that fast then shrugged it off and sat down at the table across from his brother, who was staring at the table top. He looked up and gave Sam a half grin before settling back in his chair. Sam recognized the expression and frowned. Dean was putting up a front of being a-okay and it pissed Sam off. What was it with Dean, why couldn't he just be happy? Happy that Sam was alive and the apocalypse was over. Why couldn't he have gone and settled down with Lisa and Ben? He would have been able to move on and be happy. Bobby had forbid Sam from asking Dean any of these questions until he was feeling better, but Sam had never been good at following orders.

"Stop it Dean." He said before he could stop himself. His brother had the nerve to look surprised.

"Stop what?" Dean's brow furrowed.

"That thing you do where you push everyone away."

"Sam." Bobby said warningly.

"Fuck off Sam." Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Sam didn't care.

"No, Dean. Talk to me."

"About what Sam?"

"How about why you didn't keep your promise." Sam folded his arms returning his brother's glare.

"I did."

"No, Dean, you didn't. You almost killed yourself out there."

"Look Sam." Dean growled getting shakily to his feet. "You asked me not to try and save you and despite every part of me that wanted to I didn't, okay, but you can't expect me to just move on and be happy about it and to tell you the truth I was trying, but-" He cut off, sitting back down and closing his eyes. His breath was coming in short gasps and Sam immediately regretted bringing it up. Bobby whacked him on the back of his head before setting a plate of food in front of Dean.

"We can discuss this later." He snapped. "Try and eat Dean." He grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him into the living room and shut the doors, but not before Sam saw his brother's shoulders slump in defeat. "What the hell has gotten into you Sam?" Bobby glared up at him.

"He's pushing me away Bobby, I can feel it."

"The man has been grieving in the worst way ever since you were sucked into hell. You smelled the booze on him when that damn Angel brought him here. I'm sure he's been doing anything and everything to keep himself from thinking about where you'd gone. Think about it Sam, he was there for four months, he knew what was happening to you. He's lived it for Christ's sake." Sam's eyes widened. "I know you can't remember what happened to you down there, but I know he's been imagining the worst, just like I have. Now give the man some space. He's still recuperating and he doesn't need you in his-" Bobby stopped at the sound of an engine roaring to life. Sam beat him to the porch in time to see the Impala, with Dean behind the wheel, speed off down the driveway in a cloud of dust.

"I thought you took the keys." Sam looked down at Bobby who reached into his pocket and pulled out the familiar set.

Dean shook his head as he sped down the road. Why they thought taking his keys would keep him from leaving was beyond him. Sam should at least have remembered the spare set of Dad's that he kept under the seat. His cell phone began to buzz in the glove box. He turned the volume up on the stereo. Sam didn't remember Hell? Could he be that lucky? Well he had been scooped out by God and he'd been sealed away from the rest of the Demons, so maybe it was possible. He grinned rolling down the window and inhaled the fresh air blowing in. He felt better than he had in months and not just because he wasn't sick, well almost not sick. Sammy was alive and healthy. God or whoever had brought him back whole not empty, not like Dean. He whooped increasing his speed, letting the Impala's engine rev and purr. The sound had always been a comfort to him, and this time was no different. He couldn't wait to get Sam in the passenger seat and drag him all over the country again hunting things. He felt a little bipolar and laughed pulling a U-turn. He could do this without Caz. He had Sam, and that had always been all that he needed. It wasn't like Caz could be with him anyway, he had the whole cosmic order of things to worry about, Dean was miniscule compared to that. As he pulled back into Bobby's drive he could see Sam on the porch, pacing back and forth with his phone to his ear. He chuckled softly putting the car in park and turned off the engine. "What the hell Dean?" Sam snapped coming off the porch as he climbed out.

"My baby was Angel mojoed here, I had to make sure she was alright." Dean grinned watching his brother go from upset to pissed off, but before he could say another word Dean pulled him into a hug. Sam's long arms wrapped around him and pulled him tight. "Sorry Sam." Dean whispered. Sam shook his head.

"No Dean, I'm the one who's sorry, I wasn't thinking." Dean just held him tighter and let him cry on his shoulder. He would never lose Sam again.

Sam had always been amazed by his brother's ability to bounce back, but this was ridiculous. In only a week after bringing Dean home, after almost dying a couple weeks before that, his brother looked in perfect health. He was still a bit scrawny, but he'd gain what weight he'd lost back in no time, especially with the diet he'd always had. Sam always knew something was wrong when Dean didn't want food. Every once in a while Sam caught him staring off into space with that haunted look in his eyes, but it always vanished the second Dean would notice him watching. His brother was still hiding behind that cocky attitude and quick smile, but he supposed he could live with that because that was just Dean. He wasn't a 'sharing and caring' guy like he'd said in the hospital. Dean was cocky. Dean was sure of himself. Dean was…antsy. Sam suppressed a grin as he watched his brother pace, sit down for two seconds then get up and start pacing again. He looked like a tiger in a cage, and Sam could understand where it was coming from.

Dean wasn't the stay in one place for a long time kind of guy, hell he'd been on the road pretty much constantly since he was four. Three weeks without driving more than five miles was getting to him. Sam on the other hand would be happy if they never got back on the road. They'd saved the world, what more could they do? Obviously there was still evil in the world, but he didn't feel like it was their problem anymore, but then again he wasn't a hunter to the bone the way Dean was. Sam blamed it on their father, just like he blamed all of Dean's other issues on the man. Looking back he could see how John Winchester had shaped the man Dean was today. He forced Dean to sacrifice anything and everything he'd ever wanted for himself to keep his little brother fed, clothed and safe. John Winchester had barely ever been there for either of them growing up, and when he was there it was drill after drill after drill. Order after order and Dean had obeyed. It had always infuriated Sam that Dean never argued with their father, never questioned his authority, was always Daddy's perfect little soldier. He had always thought John had loved Dean more, but he now realized that that wasn't the truth.

No father that loved their child would turn them into the kind of warrior Dean was. Sure the man was amazing to watch in action, but he wasn't whole, and Sam couldn't quite put a finger on what his brother was missing. He was funny, attractive, driven, passionate, intelligent, stubborn as hell, caring even though he never- Sam dropped his book as it finally occurred to him what his brother was missing. Well maybe not missing, just hiding. He looked up at Dean, who stared back at him looking confused. He'd always known his brother hid his emotions, but it wasn't only that. He made Sam talk about what was bothering him, but he never wanted to share, didn't want Sam to worry about him, he never wanted anyone to know the real Dean. Sam stared at his brother as it slowly dawned on him. He really didn't know Dean at all did he? All he knew were the things John Winchester had ingrained in him. He couldn't look at Dean and not see it. The clothes he wore, Dad's leather jacket, the Impala that had been Dad's, the music they had grown up listening to while Dad drove. Where was Dean? What did he want? What were his dreams; his desires? Who was Dean?

Dean shifted under his gaze uncomfortably. Bobby came in surprising both of them. Dean recovered first and began pacing again. Bobby watched him for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. "Sit down before you pace a hole in my floor." Sam frowned as Dean automatically sat, but Bobby didn't seem to notice as he took a seat at his desk. Dean's leg started bouncing up and down as he tried to contain the energy bursting from him. Sam raised his book, but kept watching his brother over the edge. How long would it take for him to get up and resume pacing? The answer: five seconds. Sam snorted as his brother stood. Before he could pace more than two times across the room Bobby set down the book he was looking through and glared at Dean. "Why don't you go fix a car or something Dean?"

"Ok." With that one word his brother was out the door.

"Hey Bobby?" Sam set his book down and walked over to sit on the couch near the desk.

"Yeah?"

"Have you noticed anything off about Dean?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, he seems the same as always, but I can't help but get the feeling like there's something wrong with him."

"He's been through a lot Sam."

"I know, but it's not just now, this is coming from before the apocalypse, from before everything. He got worse during, and now…I don't know. Something's just off."

"You know him better than I do." Bobby shrugged.

"Now see, that's the thing. I don't think I really know Dean at all. I mean can you tell me anything that he really wants, besides me not dead, because I couldn't tell you a single thing. Everything he's ever done is what Dad wanted and then after he died he did what he thought Dad would want him to do."

"Where's this going Sam?" Bobby frowned.

"I don't know Bobby, I just can't help but feel like there's something missing." Bobby's frown deepened as he sat back. "I know what he likes, but what freaks me out a little is that its all stuff my dad liked. Like his leather jacket, the bad diner food, skeevy motels, and the music he listens to, not to mention the impala. That stuff is all from Dad."

"He's always looked up to John, Sam, you know that."

Dean stood frozen in the hall, one foot on the bottom step of the staircase as he listened. "I know that Bobby, I just don't get it." Sam replied. "Sure I loved Dad and everything, but he and I argued constantly, but Dean never did once, not until we were going after Azazel and he told Dad that we were better fighting together than Dad going after it by himself. That's the first time I'd ever heard him talk back to him, and I don't get it. What made him change then? What's driving him now? That's what I'm getting at I guess. What does Dean want, who is he really behind that cock-cure attitude of his?"

"I don't know." Bobby replied, sounding worried. Dean stepped back, then spun and fled the house, letting the door slam behind him and took off through the large stacks of old, rusted cars. He heard Sam and Bobby yelling after him, but he didn't look back. His mind flashed back to when they were after the dream walker and what the demon wearing his face had said. Everything Sam had said matched almost word for word. Who was he? What did he want? Everything he had he got from his father…everything, even Sam. He choked back a sob as he hit the fence at the back of the salvage yard. He knew what he wanted, what he dreamed of having, but the only problem was it was something he could never have. Sam would never understand even if Dean told him. Sam's voice was getting closer, but Dean couldn't face him, not yet. He quickly climbed over the fence and sprinted into the forest beyond it. He ran until his lungs burned then ran some more until he collapsed under a large oak tree gasping for air. Eventually he sat up and leaned against the rough bark.

There was something wrong with him, and maybe it had everything to do with how he was raised, but he doubted it. Sure his jacket and car had once belonged to his father, but John Winchester hadn't loved them as much as Dean did. The music he loved because it was their's. Him and his father's. He could remember spending hours with his dad just working on the Impala and listening to Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Foreigner, Warrant, Motorhead, and all the others. It was all stuff his father had passed down to him and that made him love it all the more. He had always idolized his father and never wanted to disappoint him, especially after the Strega when he had almost gotten Sam killed. Since then he let his brother die twice and he knew his father was looking down on him in anger. Somehow he had to make it up to the man. He didn't know how, but he'd do it…or die trying.

He stood, shaking his head. This was not who Dean Winchester was. He didn't run from his brother or sit around and soul search. He hunted, and he was pretty damn good at it. That was his life, that was what he wanted. He didn't care that he was a less than perfect version of his father because he knew his father wasn't perfect either. No one was, except maybe Caz. He chuckled already feeling his heart calming, all he needed was to get back on the road…and maybe a drink, a really strong drink.