HOLY SHIT, I almost had a stroke last night, watching Supernatural! JEEZ!

Here's the next chapter.

I don't own Supernatural... TT I can't wait until the next episode though... (cries)

-Two Months Later-

"Finally!" Dean exclaimed, all too relieved when he and Sam walked out of the hospital. "If I see another goddamn hospital, it'll be too soon!"

A woman glared at Dean for his language as she walked past them, leading along a young child with wide eyes.

"Dean, tone it down," Sam warned under his breath.

"You try being anchored to a hospital bed for that long! Don't blame me for being happy I'm out of there."

Sam shook his head, leading the way to where he had parked the Impala. After Dean had woken up, Sam had taken it on himself to get the car fixed. Dean had sorely wanted to help, but Sam and the doctors wouldn't allow it. Since Sam wasn't the best with cars—especially completely smashed up cars—he took it to the shop, to Dean's horror. After being nagged at by Dean's persistent comments, Sam was forced to go down to the shop and make sure that no one 'screwed around' with Dean's baby.

It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of time, but it was worth the wait.

Dean trotted over to the Impala once he spotted it and ran a hand across the shiny clean surface. "Hmph. She looks okay, but let's see how she runs." He rested a hand on the hood, a ghost of a smile passing his face. "I missed you, baby. I'm sorry that my idiot brother took you to the shop."

"Hey!" Sam protested defensively. "If it weren't for me, it'd still be a scrap heap!"

"Don't remind me," Dean mumbled. "My baby's been through enough pain without you reminding her. By the way, you are so not driving ever again."

Sam shook his head, opening the passenger door and slipping into the seat. He watched his big brother examine the car for several minutes. He was truly happy that Dean was back on his feet, but he was worried around hunting… Dean didn't seem ready for it, not yet. Dean would never admit it, but Sam knew his chest was still aching like crazy. Most of his other injuries that he had received from the crash had healed, and all that was left of them were scars.

Dean finally got behind the wheel and slid the keys into the ignition. He closed his eyes as the car started up, the rumbling purr of the engine so familiar—welcome. "She sounds great. Really nice…" He looked over his shoulder at the backseat. "They cleaned the upholstery real good too. Wouldn't want all that blood still back there." He then rifled around, digging out a cassette tape and pushing it into the tape player, realizing that he had missed his music almost as much as his car. "Okay. Where to, little bro?"

"Well, I've been staying at a motel up the street. Here, I'll give you directions."

Dean nodded as Sam gave him the directions. He was so glad to be out of the hospital. The look, the smell, the annoying doctors that would never stop poking and prodding him. And when everyone left him alone, when Sam had gone back to the motel to rest, and the doctors had gone away to take care of someone else… He couldn't stand sitting in a bed, being completely alone, knowing that he could do absolutely nothing. He hated how his physical wounds healed, but the emotional ones decided to stick around. It was always like that.

"Left! Dean, it's left here!" Sam's urgent voice cut into his thoughts and brought him back to reality.

"Don't rush me, man," Dean advised as he carefully slowed down and made the turn.

"Hey, it's not my problem that you're spacing out like that," Sam defended himself. "You've been doing that a lot lately… Is there something on your mind?"

"Just trying to make sure those damn mechanics didn't screw with my car," Dean lied.

"Yeah-huh, I bet," Sam replied skeptically.

Dean glared at him. "Don't get smart with me."

Sam shrugged and pointed out the motel just up ahead. "That's it right there."

Dean nearly collapsed on Sam's bed. "Okay then. Now that we've finally ditched the hospital crap, let's get moving. You've had plenty to find out next gig. So shoot. What are we doing now?"

Sam looked down. "Eh…uh…," he began uncomfortably.

Dean stared at him expectantly. "You did find something, right?"

"I did find something in Utah…," Sam confirmed. "But…uh…"

Dean arched a questioning eyebrow at his brother. "What is it?"

"Well, I was kind of thinking… I mean…" Sam took a deep breath. He knew his brother was going to be anything but happy when he told him what he was thinking. "I mean, we can go there… But I think I should take care of it…um…you know, by myself."

Dean's eyes flashed, but he quickly covered it up. So that's what this was about… "And why is that, Sam?"

"We both know why, Dean."

Dean leaned forward. "Oh, no, please amuse me."

"I think…" Sam dug up all the stubbornness he could muster. "You just got out of the hospital, Dean. I think you still need some time to recuperate before you start hunting again."

Dean's eyes widened with fake interest. "Really? Wow." He then turned serious, his eyebrows creasing in annoyance. "I just spent the last few months recuperating! What, do you think I'm screwed up so much, I'd actually get you or someone else killed? I think I can handle one little hunt, Sam!"

"I'm just saying—"

"I don't care what you're saying! Honestly, man."

"But, Dean… It sounds like it's only a minor problem. I can take care of it."

Dean shook his head. "No." He shook his head more. "No. We're going together or not at all. C'mon, let's get moving." And he eased himself up again.

"Now?" Sam asked, flustered. "I just thought that we'd at least stay the night."

Dean gestured around him. "And I thought that there was only one bed here, but okay. I'll just sleep on the floor." He grabbed one of Sam's extra pillows and threw it on the floor.

"Uh…" Sam stared down at the thin, yellow carpeting. It looked as if it had been there for a century, and it probably hadn't been cleaned in just that long. "It's really gross down there."

Dean snorted. "What, do you want me to sleep in your bed with you? I've been covered in worse things. You know what's really gross? Organs." Dean shook his head with amusement. "I'd take this floor over organs any day of the week."

Sam shuddered. "Fine, man. You didn't have to put that image in my mind."

Dean shrugged. "Gross stuff happens in our line of work. I don't know if you had an entanglement—heh—with organs yet…hmmm…" He eyes went distant, as if he were really trying to look back on their life, intent on figuring it out.

"No. Please change the subject."

Dean snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. "I got it! It was that time with the black dog…" His story trailed off as he frowned. "Wait, no, that's not it… You weren't with me that time… Um…"

"Why are we even talking about this!" Sam asked.

"Well, Sam, when you're lying in a bed with nothing to do, you tend to do a lot of thinking."

"You sat there for that long, thinking about organs!"

"No," Dean denied. "But it only came up."

"Whatever, man. When do you want to leave tomorrow?"

Dean sat on the floor. "When I'm good and ready. I don't want to wake up at midnight like you. I will sleep until I wake up, and then I'm going to take a shower and maybe grab something to eat. Then we're going to leave."

Sam sat down on his bed. "Okay then. I'm going to sleep now. Good luck with that rug that resembles vomit."

Dean shot his brother a dirty look. "Anything's better than that hospital. That place was seriously fucked up." And he buried his head into the pillow.

"I guess," Sam mumbled before lying back on his own pillow.

Sam still didn't like the idea of Dean helping him out on the next hunt. He would have to make sure Dean was not going to help him, even if it meant bring up Sam's truckload of stubbornness that he usually saved for their father.

Want the next part? Or... Jeez, we need SOMETHING to do until next week! (needs episode two really bad... needs to watch the premiere again...) Damn, why can't they show an encore presentation! I wanna see it again!

(sigh)

pleeeeaaase review. That adorable button is crying.