Dean wasn't sure at what point he'd let himself fall asleep. Pass out was more like it. He hadn't remembered having a choice. Groggily he searched his mind for an explanation. He'd been drugged. That Mindy chick. Or the other one...Maria. What a bitch.

Of course he also remembered whiskey being involved at some point. Could explain the killer headache. So maybe not so much with the non-consensual needle sharing. Could be that Mindy and Maria had been godsends and those random demon visuals popping up in his head were nothing more than what was left of a seriously screwed up nightmare.

A pack of demons in a downtown parking lot was pretty screwed up, no question there. But when he shifted his position every muscle in his body screamed in protest and not with the hurt so good aches that came from a night of pleasant exertions. The only intimacy that made these pains was a lot of forced contact with the ground. Or walls. Cars...

The throbbing in his head kicked into full gear and verified his vague recollection of an intimate evening with the sheet metal of a van. Not just a screwed up nightmare then. Just them being screwed. Super.

Maybe he should just go back to sleep and wake up in a year when it was all over. He might just do that if the rest of what he was remembering was real. He clung to the hope that he'd just hit his head one too many times. Permanent brain damage was so much more appealing than thinking he'd really laid everything out last night.

The fog of half sleep lifted as his brain fully processed the sound that had initially dragged him closer to waking. Someone was knocking at the door and not patiently. His hand automatically reached for his gun, but stopped half way. He didn't even know where his weapon was. Dad would've rightfully torn him a new one for that.

Where his gun was though suddenly seemed less relevant when he realized that he didn't even know where he was. His eyes flew open and scanned the sunlight-bathed room around him. It looked foreign at first until he slowly recalled the stupid ass hotel Sam had checked them into. The full memories of last night hit him like a freight train. He needed to find that gun after all.

"Sammy?" Dean called questioningly towards the door. But when Sam walked around the corner from the bathroom he realized it wasn't his brother knocking.

"Right here, Dean. What do you need?"

"My gun."

"It's just Bobby."

"That's great, but dude, where's my gun?"

"No clue. What did you do with it?" His brother abruptly stopped his progress towards the door and looked back at him sheepishly. "Uh...Dean, I think we left it in the parking lot at the bar."

"You mean you left my gun next to a pile of dead guys with my prints all over it. Fan-freakin'-tastic," he grumbled. "Looks like I'm making FBI's number one most wanted after all."

Dean wasn't actually bothered by that idea. He'd already hit top ten. Why not shoot for the stars? The fact was he deserved a little notoriety if it was the only type of acknowledgement the world could summon up for him before he took the plunge.

"Do you think I could do a phone-in interview with John Walsh for my America's Most Wanted special?"

Sam looked like he had a few choice words to say in reply, but he was still playing the smothering nice card that Dean wanted to pull out of play. Despite his desire to get Sam off his back, Dean didn't help anything when he couldn't stop himself from groaning. Sitting up hadn't been as easy as it sounded.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Not even close. I'm too old for this."

"Seriously, Dean? You're not even thirty."

"I'm in the last year of my life. Trust me. I'm too old for this crap."

Sam apparently didn't want to touch that one and instead opened the door to Bobby's impatient knocking.

"About damn time," the older man huffed as he pushed into the room. "I was about to bust the door in. Did you two chuckle heads need time to hide the girls under the beds?"

"Sorry, Bobby," Sam replied as he shut the door behind him. "Dean just woke up. Thanks for coming."

"No problem, kid. Just sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

For all his gruff, tough guy talk Bobby was really just a big teddy bear. A really shotgun proficient, shoot you as soon as look at you teddy bear that really wasn't all that cuddly. Actually Dean got the impression that Sam and him were a couple of the only people that Bobby was actually nice to and 'nice' didn't begin to cover it.

Bobby was a father to him, but a world different than Dad had been. With Bobby it had always been like Dean could do no wrong. He didn't get how Bobby was that blind because the fact was he could do no right, but it was like Bobby didn't even care how bad he screwed up. It didn't matter what happened, Bobby was always there when they needed him. Really he was more like what Dean imagined a grandpa would be.

Despite everything he almost snickered at that. Bobby would totally kick his ass if he knew he'd just thought of him as a grandpa. His inner amusement fell short of making it to his face as he realized if Bobby asked he wouldn't be able to stop himself from blurting out what he'd been thinking. So much for inside jokes.

Searching for a distraction his eyes fell on his own clothing. He ran a hand absently over his rumpled tie that hadn't quite made it all the way off last night. Suit pants and a dirt smeared, half unbuttoned dress shirt. Classy.

"Rough night, huh?" Bobby asked.

It took Dean a minute to realize that the question had been aimed at him. He looked up from his shirt and saw the concern in Bobby's eyes. What he wouldn't give not to see that look on someone's face when they looked at him. Nobody needed to be wasting their time worrying about him.

"Yeah, it sucked. Same old. At least it was me they grabbed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked in that way that really wasn't a question.

He so didn't need his little brother chastising him right now. If the demons were going to mess with anyone, it might as well be the sucker that was already on the way out. That wasn't just his personal preference. That was just plain commonsense. Just because he happened to be short straw guy didn't change the facts.

"You know damn well what it means, Sam." With a frustrated sigh Dean ran his hands over his face. "Man, I'm through explaining myself to you. Like it or don't. I don't give a rat's ass either way, but I don't have to justify myself to anyone. Not even you."

Sam looked put out, which wasn't Dean's intention, but he was drowning here. He just needed some room to breath and to think. Privately. In his own head.

"You're right, Dean. I'm sorry."

It was taking every bit of his worn patience not to pummel someone. This whole be careful with Dean business was crap. He wanted Sam to just be Sam and to stop being sorry every little word. Sorry didn't change anything.

"No, I'm not right and I'm tired of everyone being sorry," he replied in complete frustration. "What do you got to be sorry for anyway?"

"As much as you."

"Oh come on! Look, Sam, I know how screwed up you think I am...you both think I am," he corrected with a glance towards Bobby.

They didn't have to say it. He could see it in their eyes. Sam opened his mouth to protest and Bobby was right behind his brother, but Dean cut them both off because he didn't want to hear it. Not now.

"Maybe you guys are right. I don't know and I don't care, because this is just me and I'm okay. I mean I'm not happy and I don't like what I see in the mirror. I'm scared...man," he shook his head, "I'm terrified. Me and every other poor sap on this planet."

It wasn't like he was the only dick going to hell. He wasn't the only one on earth dying either. He wasn't even the only one who knew his expiration date. His was just a little more exact. Good people were dying right now. Unlike the rest of them, he'd actually chosen this so there was no way he was going to sit around feeling sorry for himself.

He didn't want anyone else feeling sorry for him either, but they were. Neither Sam or Bobby seemed to know what to say and the thing was, he didn't want them to say anything.

"Can we just find a way for me to shut my pie hole that doesn't involve me slitting my own throat? And just a heads up - I'm throwing a punch at the next guy that asks me a question."

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed so that his back was to the well intending, but annoying as hell guys that wouldn't stop staring at him. At least the demons hadn't felt sorry for him. He grabbed his liquor bottle back out of the bag and unscrewed the cap.

"We don't do coffee anymore?" Bobby asked.

The stern tone stopped the movement of his hand just before the opening of the bottle touched his lips. It wasn't that he wouldn't take some coffee. It might help clear his head, but when he really thought about it, he had a feeling that everything would just look all the crappier if his head was clear.

Right now foggy and numb sounded pretty damn good. He was also decently sure that he could drink nothing but alcohol for the time he had left and still have a functioning liver by the time he was pitched into the pit.

"You didn't bring me any," Dean replied with a glance towards Bobby. "Besides, if I'm gonna ramble on like a drunken idiot I might as well actually be drunk. At least then I won't have to remember all this crap I'm spewing."

At the disapproving fatherly look he didn't need right now, he returned the cap to the bottle and tossed it back into the duffel. He couldn't deal with this right now. Find and kill the demons – sign him up for that action, but sitting here and talking about his mental state just wasn't happening.

"You guys talk, I'm going to go change into something not stupid."

"Dean, sit down," Sam practically begged.

The voice was way too tired. Dean's eyes flashed to his brother. It was the first time this morning that he really looked at Sam and his brother looked like crap. Judging by the bags under his eyes there was no way Sam had actually slept last night.

"I don't wanna. Besides, you look worse than I feel. You should get some sleep."

Sam just looked at him like he was crazy. Like it was some wild nutty thing to suggest that his exhausted little brother should get some rest? If the demons were coming they'd come and he wasn't going to have Sam getting killed again because he'd been too tired to fight at the top of his game.

"I'll sleep once we've got this figured out. We need to talk about what's going on with you."

He knew his brother was worried. He got that, but he wasn't the priority here. The demons had done whatever they had done. Maybe it would wear off, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe they'd come back to finish the job. He dared them to try. At least exorcising their asses would be something not awkward to do. But short of that he was done.

Everyone and their mother wanted to screw with him and he was having trouble caring. There wasn't much point in worrying about something he couldn't stop and dealing with this was not how he was going to spend the time he had left. Worse came to worse he could just cut out his tongue and still have his going away party.

"No. I'm tired of talking, Sam. You guys just make this go away so I can get back to dying in peace."

Without waiting for the reply he didn't want to hear, he dug some clothes out of his bag, pushed off the bed and shut himself in the bathroom. Even he knew it was the action of a petulant five year old, but screw that. He didn't care. Coming off like an overgrown brat was far better than more of the truth coming out.

----

Bobby had driven all night to get out here. He never should have left the boys to go after this. The signs had all been there, but hell, the signs were everywhere these days. There was no chance he would have sent these two in alone if he'd known they were actually going to step into something this deep.

The last time he'd turned his back, Dean had up and pulled a classic Winchester. As far as he could figure this was the most self-destructive family of martyrs ever to walk this earth, but they were his stupid, suicidal family and he was trying his damndest to keep what was left of them intact.

So help him, he loved these boys more than was reasonable. It didn't matter that they were Winchesters by birth. They were his now and he honestly couldn't love them more if they had been his all along. It was no question that he had to do what he could to set them right. He was just afraid that it was too little too late. Especially for Dean.

Sam had made his own mind about things from the day he could walk. Drove John damn near out of his mind in the later years, but only because Sam had been a spitting image of John's rigid certainty. John had never needed anyone to tell him that he was okay, that he was doing the right thing. John just knew, even when he was wrong, and so did Sam.

The problem was that John had always assumed Dean had known it too. There was no telling where that misguided idea had come from because Bobby had seen it was anything but so from the first day he'd laid eyes on John's silently obedient eldest. He could only imagine that it was his mother that Dean had taken after because it sure as hell wasn't John.

For reasons beyond Bobby, Dean would have unquestioningly done any stupid thing for that unbelievably dense father of his. Even go to hell. Literally. He could kill John all over for having been too blinded by self-appointed duty to see what he'd done, or rather hadn't done, with Dean.

All it would have taken was waking up enough to see how desperate the kid was for one damn approving word. But no, instead John had left behind a dependent young man that had never had anyone to depend on. The boy had given everything he had and still didn't think he was worth any more than having his soul chucked into the pit.

He shook his head as that bruised up boy stormed off to hide in the bathroom. Dean had managed to hide his true self from his own father for over twenty years. If anyone depended on being able to hide in themselves it was this kid.

If this thing was truly was what Sam was suggesting then it was little wonder that Dean looked ready to self-destruct. It couldn't be easy and this was steeped on top of a world of hurt that was already there. Sam's concerned eyes confirmed his fears.

"Isn't he just a ball of sunshine?" Bobby remarked dryly.

Sam raised his brows and nodded. "Yeah...this is hard for him."

"The whole truth thing?"

"I think he's just afraid I'm going to ask him more questions."

There was enough hint of guilt in Sam's tone to give Bobby a big clue as to why Dean was even less the Chatty Cathy than usual. Not that he needed any more explanation than the fact that the one thing Dean had always had in common with John was tightly sealed lips when it came to anything resembling personal. Dean talked a lot. The kid ran his mouth constantly, but he didn't tend to say anything when he did talk.

Sam's eyes moved away from the closed bathroom door to look at him. "So what do you think, Bobby? Could it be some kind of truth serum?"

"There are as many human made truth serums as there are leprechauns riding around on unicorns, but we're talking demons. We could be looking at damn near anything here. Are you full out certain he's just spouting truth?"

"Dean really can't stop himself from talking right now...no matter what it is. With how upset he is about it I'm guessing he must really just be saying the truth." Words aside, Sam's tone was skeptical at best.

"Now's not the time to be holding back, kid."

The youngest Winchester lowered his voice further before continuing, "He just...Dean doesn't actually sound like himself. Is there anyway a demon could've gotten past that tattoo?"

"You've been with him like this for twelve hours and you haven't thought to check if he's possessed?" he replied with a harsh whisper.

That should have been the first thing Sam had done, but he wasn't surprised the boy had gotten muddled up considering that this was his own brother they were dealing with. That's why Bobby had flown out here like a bat out of hell.

He had a sneaking suspicion about what had Sam thinking it wasn't Dean though. Sure they'd be needing to check for possession, but Bobby was more than sure that wasn't it. The first major clue was that if Dean was possessed Sam would probably already be dead and the second was that from what he'd seen, Dean wasn't acting out of character. He was just acting in a way that Sam wasn't used to seeing.

"What's he been saying that's got you wondering?"

"He just keeps...forget it. Dean isn't possessed. I just kind of wish he was."

Sam made a face as if he thought it was an awful thing to say, but Bobby understood more than Sam could know and just gave a curt nod of agreement. It was confirmation enough of what he had been thinking and there wasn't any reason to say anything more to it. It wasn't either of their places to speak for Dean.

"Might be that we're looking at some kind of truth potion."

"Maybe. But why go through all this just to make Dean tell the truth?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. It don't make a lick of sense. You say they just came at you in a public lot?"

"Well, Dean kind of went after them, but they were trying to break into the Impala's trunk."

"You boys carrying anything special in there?"

"Just the usual and we have a devil's trap and protection on the trunk. It's not like they could've even got in. The way it went down, it's almost like they were just trying to lure in Dean. Bobby, they didn't even care that I was there."

Touching that car would get the boy's full attention, but only someone who knew Dean would know that. He was hoping like hell that Sam was wrong because if he was right that would mean they were dealing with some black eyes that knew the Winchester boys far too well. He didn't need to be worrying Sam with that notion until they had more info to say for sure.

"You said you got the needle they used?" Bobby asked. Better to focus on what they could do now rather than what might happen later on.

"Yeah. I thought there might be something left in it that we could get tested."

"Good thinking."

They both stopped talking as Dean snuck back into the room. The boy had shed the rumpled suit and was back in his normal gear, but otherwise didn't look any better. The kid kept his eyes lowered and seemed intent on not speaking to them. He'd probably just gotten tired of sitting in the bathroom.

Bobby watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy settled back on the bed and grabbed the television remote. If Dean wanted to be let alone, there was no reason not to leave him to it until they really needed him.

"Let's start by getting it tested and see where that leaves us."

"Impersonating a federal officer my ass! That dick was impersonating a civilian."

With a confused scowl, Bobby turned around to look at Dean. He realized then that the boy wasn't talking to them, but was having it out with the television. No good ever came of watching the news.

"If you don't like it, turn it off. Don't sit there crying at it," Bobby grumbled dismissively.

When he turned back to Sam he realized that the younger boy's eyes were also wide and glued to the television. Obviously he was missing something here. He too turned his focus to the screen and he didn't like what he was seeing one bit.

Stuck up in the corner of the screen was a photo of Dean standing outside of a Milwaukee bank looking like a deer caught in headlights. It was far from the face of a cold-blooded killer, not that you'd guess it from what was being said. Some reporter was interviewing a man that was annoyingly smug considering how much he didn't know about the kid he was talking about.

"Who the hell's that yahoo?" Bobby asked.

"It's the jerk from the bar last night," Dean replied.

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he looked between the brothers. "Is there a little something else you two were planning on telling me?"

Dean apparently hadn't heard him, eyes still fixed on the damn television, but Sam squirmed. Sam had mentioned police, but only as an after thought so Bobby hadn't thought much of it. The boys weren't nearly as careful as they ought to be when it came to the law, but the things they were saying on this newscast went far beyond 'oops we ran into the cops again'.

According to the reporter the fugitive Dean Winchester and his accomplice were responsible for seven additional murders and two assaults. Bobby hadn't been keeping a tally sheet of the boy's charges but on top of what he did know, this wasn't anything to be messing around with.

He wasn't sure what of it was legit, but he had to think that Sam would have mentioned if Dean had gone on a murder spree last night. His mind couldn't help but flash to Sam's possession concern.

"You were with him all night?" Bobby asked Sam.

"Of course. I just left him in the car for like two minutes to check in."

"I killed two guys in the parking lot," Dean interjected out of the blue.

"While he checked in?" Bobby didn't succeed in keeping the shock from his voice as he tried to sort this out. Dean's statement was so blatant he didn't know what to do with it.

"No. Earlier. At the bar."

Sam jumped to his brother's defense. "You didn't kill anyone, Dean. Not on purpose."

"When I shot them in the head killing them was the general intention. So, yeah, I did."

"You were trying to slow down the demons."

"Yeah...and how'd that go? Two guys that shouldn't be dead and four demons still hunting our asses."

"Quit your whining. Both of you. This ain't helping a damn thing," Bobby interrupted. "Will one of you girls just tell me what really happened last night in plain English?"

Sam spoke up first. "Like I told you on the phone, there were four demons that jumped us. Dean shot two of them while they were attacking him. He didn't have a choice. I guess the two survivors are the supposed assaults. One of them had been in the bar with Dean so people would have seen them together before it happened."

"I don't like the sounds of that and I ain't no mathematician," Bobby replied, "but by my count that still leaves five bodies unaccounted for."

Sam just shrugged, but some sort of recognition seemed to flash over Dean's eyes. The boy started looking around the room before locking eyes with his brother.

"Sam, where's my jacket?" Dean asked.

"Right next to you," Sam replied with a nod towards John's old leather jacket.

"No. The suit. It's in the car right?"

"The jacket for your suit? Oh no," Sam groaned. "You took it off before the fight at the bar."

"And you didn't pick it up?"

"I was a little busy carrying you to pick up after you."

"That's just peachy."

"English, boys!" Bobby urged them impatiently. The boys were talking in code as far as he was concerned. That was one thing about trying to hold a conversation with two kids that could finish each other's sentences.

"I had the photos of five local murder victims in my jacket with my FBI badge and I guess Sammy here left them in the lot with my gun."

"I wasn't the one throwing my stuff all over the parking lot, Dean," Sam protested.

"That's why you're not the one that's gonna spend the last miserable year of his life in behind bars. Blaming you...doesn't even make me feel better." All the fire left the boy as he looked away. "I know it's my own damn fault."

"No, you're right, Dean. I should've been paying attention and I'm not letting them put you away."

"Like you can stop it."

"Can we all feel sorry for ourselves later? What exactly were you two doing last night?" Bobby asked.

"We interviewed this bar owner in front of an undercover officer," Dean replied without bothering to look at him. The kid's eyes were fixed back on the damn television. There was a reason Bobby hated these things.

"As FBI agents? What were you boys thinking?"

"It was Sam's stupid idea," Dean replied offhandedly.

"We didn't know," Sam explained.

"A hundred grand. Damn. That's pretty awesome."

"You got a hundred grand out of it?" Bobby asked Dean. "What'd you do, rob another bank?"

"No. The reward for my head. Obviously I'm screwed to hell no matter how we play this. Bobby, you need to turn me in and collect the reward. Least I could do is get you and Sam some spending cash before I go."

On any other day it could have been a joke, but it wasn't. There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in the tone and the boy was looking up at him with all the earnestness in the world.

"I'm going to throttle you myself if you keep talking like that, boy," Bobby warned him.

"Take your best shot and while you're at it, why don't you both just stop pretending you can save me?"

Bobby shot Dean a warning look as the kid climbed off the bed and started pacing around like a caged tiger. He was sick and tired of this boy, his boy, insisting not only that he couldn't be saved, but that he wasn't worth the bother. If anyone was, Dean was.

"Last I checked you were still alive."

"Not for long so maybe we could stop screwing around with this and focus on something that matters."

"Like what exactly?"

"I don't know...don't you two have a world to save or some crap?"

"We three do, but you might have trouble with that since you're too wrapped up in what you're saying to think straight. Say whatever you damn well please. Since when do you care?"

"I don't, but I want to pick my own freakin' words!" Dean's expression flashed with worry as he briefly met Bobby's eyes before the boy again broke contact. "I want what's in here to stay in here…and I don't want to chase you guys off. Okay?"

"What?"

Sam's confused question mirrored Bobby's own. If Dean thought he was getting away with leaving it at that the boy had another thing coming. Bobby moved in, blocking the kid's pacing. Dean looked like he wanted to bolt but stood his ground and finally leveled his eyes with Bobby's. The lost desperation that looked back at him shattered Bobby's heart. Under that carefully controlled exterior, the boy was drowning.

"You think you're gonna tell me my hat is stupid and I won't love you anymore? There ain't no qualifiers on love, kid. There's no idiotic thing you could do to make me or Sam turn our backs on you."

Dean just looked all the uneasier and dropped his eyes to the floor. "You don't have to say that."

"Damn right. I don't and I shouldn't have to. You should know it by now." He stepped in closer when he saw that Dean wanted to get away.

"Yeah, well, you're both nuts. Sorry to disappoint, but you guys love something that just isn't there."

That was the last straw. Bobby ignored the obvious fact that Dean wanted to get away. Instead he put his hands firmly on the boy's shoulder and forced the kid to look at him.

"Son, you're damn near perfect except you got your head on backwards when it comes to yourself. You could never disappoint me and that's the god honest truth."

He hated that the words brought a flash of surprise to Dean's eyes. Finally it seemed like the kid was starting to believe him. About damn time.

"As long as we're all being honest, there's something I gotta know too."

"Anything."

"What is up with the hat?"

"Don't press your luck, boy."

Bobby cracked a smile and ruffled his hand through Dean's short hair. It wasn't something he'd done since the boy had been just a little tike and he half expected to get nailed for it, but he knew Dean needed it whether or not the kid would admit it. It seemed that he hadn't been wrong by the look of comfort that Dean did a lousy job of hiding.

"I got some books out in the car."

"I'll give you a hand, Bobby," Dean replied. "I gotta get out of this room before I go nuts."

"Dean, if anyone else has been watching the news..." Sam warned.

Bobby turned to see the apprehensive look on Sam's face. Parading Dean around would be a damn stupid idea right now, but given how long they were going to have to keep the boy cooped up in here they were going to have to let him out when they could just so that Dean didn't really lose it.

They wouldn't be going far and if they kept to the stairwells few would be seeing them. While he couldn't say it aloud with Dean standing there, he gave Sam a look that assured him that he'd keep an eye on Dean. Sam nodded in silent understanding.

"Okay," Sam reluctantly acquiesced. "Just give me a call if you guys run into any trouble."

"On our way to the parking garage?" Dean asked his brother with an annoyed look. "Just because my mouth has me babbling on like one doesn't mean I've actually turned into a toddler."

Sometimes Bobby wondered how these two ever got anything done, but they didn't just get it done. They were a couple of the best. And they were a couple – a pair anyway. He knew for a fact that Dean was dead without Sam and it would never be right for Sam once Dean was gone. He didn't blame Sam for worrying about letting the kid out of his sight.

In this case though even Bobby thought Dean could behave for the short distance they had to go. It was 11:30 AM and the parking garage was four floors directly under them. They didn't even have to leave the building to get there. The possibility of trouble was slim, but he had no intention of letting his guard down.

"We'll watch ourselves," Bobby assured Sam. "You do the same."

But Dean just scoffed. "Dude, if we run into something we can't handle between here and there we deserve to get our asses kicked."

----

Sam turned off the television and looked uneasily around the bland hotel room. He had assumed that Bobby had wanted to talk to Dean alone. Even though he knew it was wishful thinking, he futilely hoped that Dean wanted to talk to Bobby too. Really talk to him. It wasn't going to be easy saving Dean if his brother didn't even want to be saved.

He wanted to know the right thing to say to make Dean see, but for once he didn't know what to say and it really bothered him. He wanted to finally help his brother. Even though it didn't really matter how it happened, he wanted to be the one to save Dean. Just the possibility that he may not be able to was more than he could think about.

But now something else was bothering him. He'd taken talk time into account, but unless Dean was giving a blow by blow account of the last twenty four hours, Dean and Bobby had been gone way too long.

He glanced at his watch to confirm that he wasn't being too excessively paranoid. No matter what kind of heart to heart was involved, this was still Dean and Bobby. Neither of them were exactly big talkers and it didn't take twenty-eight minutes to get any quantity of books out of a car that was only a few flights of stairs away. He dug out his phone and hit Dean's number on the speed dial.

As he listened to the phone ring he glanced out the window to see if there was any suspicious activity outside. If a cop car had driven by Dean would have decided to stay low for a bit but there was nothing obviously out of place off the front side of the building.

"Hey Dean," Sam said when he got Dean's voice message. "Just wondering where you guys are...call me."

Sam slowly closed the phone feeling a little ridiculous. Maybe Bobby had just taken Dean out for coffee. It wouldn't be weird, but Dean not answering his phone and Bobby not telling him where they were going was. They wouldn't have gone anywhere after that news story.

After last night he wasn't taking any chances. Sam left the room and walked down the hallway. By the looks of some of the tourists he passed he must have been walking faster than he realized. The last thing he needed to be doing is drawing attention to himself. It might have been Dean's face on the news, but he had to be careful too.

He forced himself to relax as he impatiently waited for the elevator. On his way down to the parking garage he realized he had no idea where Bobby had parked. More than that, he didn't even know what car Bobby had come in.

For a guy that had a yard full of cars, Bobby sure seemed to have trouble coming by one that worked. At least Sam knew he was looking for a serious piece of junk and most of the cars in this garage looked pretty decent.

He finally found an old junker, but there was no way of knowing if it was actually Bobby's. Sam started to feel like an idiot. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Dean and Bobby were probably back up in the room wondering where he was. Grabbing his phone out of the pocket and tried Dean's cell again.

The phone just kept ringing again, but when it went to voicemail Sam noticed that an odd sound in the background of the parking garage stopped. Hanging up, he dialed Dean's phone again and the faint sound started back up. He wasn't imagining the sound, but he prayed he was wrong about what it was.

It took him a while to trace the source. He got close enough to make the sickening verification that it was Dean's ring tone, but he still couldn't figure out exactly where it was coming from. After several calls he realized that the ringing was coming from inside of the service closet.

Sam tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. "Dean?" he called through the door. He didn't get a reply, but his brother's phone was obviously in there.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Sam used his body to block anyone's view of the doorknob while he picked the lock. So much for parking garage security. The guys must have the day off.

As soon as the lock clicked he threw the door open and his heart stopped. His brother was lying in a heap on the ground. It was obvious by the jumble of limbs that someone had just tossed his hopefully unconscious body in here.

Dropping next to Dean, Sam pulled his brother into his arms. Dean's head lolled limply to the side revealing a mess of blood and dirt smeared down one side of his face. It was pretty obvious that his brother had been pushed or dragged along the rough concrete.

"No, no. Dean?"

A moment later there was a sharp gasp as Dean jerked up in his arms. "Bobby?"

Seeing Dean lying there had made him forget all about Bobby. Quickly Sam looked around for a second body but didn't see one. There wasn't exactly a lot of extra room in here with the brooms and repair tools and he'd walked all over the parking garage.

"It's Sam," he corrected.

Sam realized between the darkness of the closet and how unfocused Dean's eyes were again that his might not even know who was holding him. He could only hope that Dean remembered what had happened. Suddenly it seemed as if it hit his brother when Dean urgently latched onto his arm.

"They took him," Dean told him unsteadily. "They took Bobby."