Yes, LWD is ba-a-ck! But, I have no idea where it needs to go, so I'm asking for some feedback. Leave it in a review or PM or email me (available from my profile page) about what you'd like to see. Several of you have been asking when this fic would make a return, but I can't decide where to take it. I do have one plotline in mind, but I think we need more than just that, don't you?

Chapter 25

Dean tried to wait patiently as the doctor pushed and prodded all his sore spots, but it took every ounce of will power he had not to deck him when he pressed against those sore ribs. That was right where the people-eater had slammed him into the wall.

"Well, doctor?" Sam asked anxiously. Freaking mother-hen.

The doctor, whose name Dean wasn't even going to pretend to remember, stared at him. "I'd have to say your uncle was right: too much, too soon."

"Meaning?" Sam demanded.

"Meaning," the doctor turned to look at Sam, "your brother now has several broken ribs to add to his list of injuries, which was already quite impressive."

"Can't believe they weren't already broken," Bobby mumbled.

"Me either," the doctor replied, flipping through several pages of his medical records. "How's the head?"

Dean shrugged. "Fine. Headache's mostly gone."

"Mostly?"

"Dude!" Dean pressed a hand to his temple. "That was in stereo!" And loud, too. Why the hell did Sam, Bobby and Doc No-Name all react the same way? "One at a time!"

Doc No-Name motioned for the others to be quiet, like that was going to work. "Dean, on a scale of one to ten, one being minimal and ten being the worst pain you've ever experienced, where does this headache fall?"

Dean chewed his lower lip to buy a couple of moments to think. "Maybe a three," he admitted.

"Dean!" Sam snapped.

"What?" He spread his hands wide. "Dude, on a normal day it's like a one or two. This isn't much worse."

"Constant headache?" No-name asked. "Well, that could be consistent with the head trauma, old and new. You had the headache before too?"

Dean pursed his lips as he thought about it. Everything before he met Dad was kind of in a haze. Some things he saw clearer than others, some not at all. "It seems like it."

The doctor tried to hide it, but Dean's answer seemed to startle him. Dean shot Sam a questioning look, but all he got back was a long sigh. Great, now he was being more trouble than he was worth. Figured. Story of his life.

"Kid has kind of a dangerous occupation, doc," Bobby was saying. "How long should he wait before going back to work, part-time?"

"What kind of dangerous occupation?" No-name asked.

"We're with the national park service," Sam answered. "We hunt wild animals responsible for human maulings."

"Really?" Doc No-name scratched along his jaw, brow creased so he could think harder. Dean found himself wondering what he looked like when he was thinking hard. Not that it mattered, Sammy was responsible for most of the heavy thinking. "Get many calls a year for that?"

"You'd be shocked," Bobby replied in a heavy voice.

"Well, with those ribs, I'd have to say at least two more months downtime. I can write out a work excuse if you need one," the doc offered.

Dean waved it off. "It's okay," he assured No-name, "they'll believe me."

Doc No-name frowned. "No, I think I'll write one anyway. I have a feeling you'd tell them two weeks."

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. "Not with these two around." He gestured to Sam and Bobby. "But I can still work on my car, right?"

"Work on your car?" the doctor demanded, and Dean got that oh-so-familiar sinking feeling. "Any heavy lifting involved in that?"

"My job," Sam said, raising his hand.

"Leaning over?" the doctor asked next.

"Guess that's where I come in," Bobby answered.

No-name smiled. "Well, as long as you're just supervising, I don't have a problem with it."

Dean almost explained how he intended to work on his car, but he thought better of it. The last thing he needed was Sam or Bobby being told to keep him in bed.

Sam didn't know whether to feel pissed off over Dean having broken ribs now, or relieved there wasn't anything more serious than just some ribs. He must have been too quiet about it, because Bobby poked him hard in the side. When Sam shot the older hunter a questioning look, Bobby nodded in Dean's direction. Dean looked a little pale, like he was holding up the weight of the world.

"So what's next?" Sam asked, trying to sound light and casual. "Are you planning to keep working on the engine, or do we move on to the interior? As I recall, I get some say in the upholstery."

Dean shrugged from the examination table. "Can we go now?" There was that little kid voice. Again. Sam had been learning to hate that sound.

"Come on, boy," Bobby said gruffly. "There's work to be done."

Dean slid slowly off the end of the table to follow Bobby out, with Sam on his heels. When Dean shot him an aggravated glare over his shoulder, Sam picked up his pace to walk beside his brother. Man that sounded good, having a big brother.

"We'll drop off this," Bobby held up the white paper with Dean's new prescription, "on the way home. I'll pick it up later, when I go for pizza."

"Pizza?" Sam asked, astounded. Since when had Bobby ever gone out for pizza? Ever?

"Unless the walking wounded wants somethin' else?" Bobby asked with a quick glance at Dean.

Dean didn't answer until Sam gave him a shove in the shoulder. "Oh, uh, just a sandwich is fine with me."

Bobby frowned, slowing to check for oncoming traffic. "Maybe you'll feel like pizza tomorrow, after these new meds have some time to work."

Dean shrugged, staring out the window. Was Dean behaving this way because Ella left? It had been Dean's idea, not his. Sam might have to convince her to come back, if Dean was going to be moody and sullen all the time. Oh, crap.

Bobby focused on the traffic so he wouldn't be tempted to look at the kid sitting to his right. Dean might physically be an adult, but thanks to his crappy childhood he was still in most respects just a kid. Now he was a kid living under the shadow of the threat of his father leaving him. Seeing the fear and desperation in Dean's face and actions was enough to gnaw at Bobby's insides, making him feel ill. John Winchester needed a serious ass-kicking.

Bobby didn't know all the details of Dean's life before meeting John, but he had a pretty good idea in general of the neglect. Apparently there had been physical abuse as well, judging by Sam's attitude towards Ella, though Bobby had a hard time imagining such a submissive woman abusing anyone. When Dean felt vulnerable, like now, he exuded the characteristics of a person who had suffered some type of abuse/neglect as a child.

"How about some movies?" Bobby suggested, spotting the video rental place and pulling in. "Just do me a favor?" He pulled into a parking space and shifted into park before turning to face the boys. "Don't let Sam get any of that emotional crap he likes."

Sam's expression soured but a thin smile appeared on Dean's face. "I'll try," Dean replied, "but you know what a princess he can be."

Bobby chuckled as Sam escaped out the door. He pulled out his wallet to hand over his membership card and some cash to Dean.

"Really?" Dean asked as he took it. "You actually rent movies?"

"I even own a dvd player," Bobby replied stiffly. "You act like I'm stuck in the last century."

Dean's smile widened. "More like the last, uh..." The smile dropped in favor of a creased brow. "You know, that word for a thousand years."

"Millennium," Bobby replied.

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's it." He sighed, casting a furtive glance to where Sam stood by the door to the video store, waiting for him. "I hate it when I can't remember stuff."

Bobby shrugged. "We all have our problems. Mine is named Winchester. Count yourself lucky." When Dean's gaze rested on him for a long moment, Bobby felt the need to clarify his statement. "As in John Winchester. Now get, before Sam comes back and drags you in by the scruff of your neck."

Dean's eyes rolled, but he opened the passenger door and stepped out slowly. Bobby had guessed there were a few broken ribs just by how careful the kid moved now, not jostling himself too much. The new pain pills ought to help out, but time and rest were usually best. Honestly, he was looking forward to working on the Impala with Dean again. The kid was a hell of a mechanic, much better than John. John told him once that he had owned a garage, but Bobby had a difficult time believing it. He took a few too many shortcuts for Bobby's tastes. Dean might be overly meticulous, but it was better than being half-assed.

After the boys were both in the video rental place, Bobby slid his new cell phone out of his pocket. He'd picked it up shortly after coming back from hunting with the Winchesters. Those poor kids needed to be able to call him after John disappeared. Speaking of which...

Bobby called John.

"What's the verdict, Bobby?" John asked, his breathing labored.

Bobby hoped the stubborn idgit at least felt a little guilty over planning to abandon these boys the first time the demon showed itself. "Broke some ribs when the rakshasa tossed him around."

"When was that?" John demanded. "I never saw it toss him around!"

"When he went in to ask about borrowing some brass knives. Wasn't his fault, John, none of us figured it was the blind guy," Bobby replied, realizing the fault for Dean being tossed around fell on his shoulders. He had been the one charged with watching Dean's back. "Does explain why a blind man was so good with those knives, though."

A dark chuckle came through the phone. "Guess that shoulda tipped us off, huh? Maybe the boys are right, we're slipping up in our old age."

"Speak for yourself," Bobby snapped. "Heard anything yet?"

John sighed and Bobby had a bad feeling. "Maybe. I've come up with a way of tracking, I'll show you when you get here. I think it's headed for the east coast. I'd rather not leave with Dean laid up and the car still in pieces, but..."

His voice trailed off and Bobby understood what the ass was asking. "They'll always be welcome to stay at my place, no matter how long."

"Bobby, you don't know how much I appreciate..."

"Shut up," he growled. "Just shut the hell up, Winchester. This is all your fault. You do know that." It wasn't a question, not really.

"I know," he sighed. "I'll make it up to them, Bobby."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "No, you won't. You can't. But you're too much of a stubborn jackass to see it. At least promise me you'll tell them, face-to-face. None of that sneaking off in the middle of the night crap."

The next sigh told Bobby that was exactly what John had been planning, no doubt because it would be easier on him. "Okay, Bobby. I promise."

Bobby let out the breath he had been holding on behalf of the boys. "Good. And you're responsible for dinner tonight." He hung up before John could protest.