Completely AU here on out. Reviews are so lovely and I appreciate them so much!

Only a few days passed since their conversation and Dean's confession,and things seemed to be "normal". Sam's wound was healing nicely, but he was feeling antsy. He knew Dean was feeling the same because he'd come up with any excuse to go out,even when they were fully stocked on what they needed.

It was pizza night in the bunker and Dean had just come back with 2 large,loaded with every topping pizzas.
Dropping one on Sam's open book (a translated lore book from 1900's Austria), Dean grinned, "All work and no play. Time to eat!"
Sam shook his head,watching his brother move around to the other side of the table,placing the other box down. "You seem to be feeling better."
Dean paused in sliding a beer toward Sam as he sat back in a chair too. "Oh quiet,Florence. I'm good."
"Good. " Sam returned,turning and stretching out his stiff had been reading most of the day to kill the annoying amount of free time they had.
"How about you? You good?" Dean asked before taking a very large bite,leaving Sam to wonder if he remembered how to do the heimlich. Doing a quick mental assesment, Sam grinned a little, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Tender, but good."
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Dean nodded and continued to eat with out much talk inbetween.
hey both sat in silence for a good while before Dean cleared his throat, "So, uh. Say that I found us a case. About a 4 day drive. You'd be good by then right?"
Sam snorted and scrubbed a hand through his hair, "Yeah,Dean. Should be fine. Where's this case?"
Practically jumping with excitement,Dean grinned. "Maine. "
Pausing, Sam cast his brother a look, "Okay..." he said slowly, "Why Maine? What's the case?"
Dean murmured something, causing Sam to tell him to repeat himself, "BIGFOOT. I said bigfoot."
Sam just stared. Dean huffed and shook his head, "Oh no no. You do not get to tell there's no such thing. "
"Dean, this is-"
"Don't say stupid. You know that we've gone out for a lot less and the year we've had?" Dean shook his head. Sam sighed, still looking unconvinced. So Dean tried another tactic.
"If you're not up to it. I can go myself."
"And what about Cas? Amara?"
Dean paused, scrubbing a hand across his forehead,shoulders slumping. "Mmmyeah. JUst the thought about diving back in is -"
"So overwhelming you can't function?" Sam provided and Dean nodded. There was silence again for a while.

"Hit the road by 7?" Sam asked finally,knowing the trapped feeling Dean was experiencing.

Dean grinned. "Maine. ' The way life should be.' "

-

"I hate this state." Dean grunted, as they sat on the highway. The traffic was bumper to bumper. Dean wouldn't admit it, but once they hit New Jersey, he thought it'd be faster to take the highway the rest of the way. Bad idea. They technically had been in Maine for 3 hours already, each hour, Dean's mood worsened.
It wasn't that he was reallyangry, it was that the stand still traffic made him anxious and in turn made it seem like he had road rage.
Sam on the other hand tried to find a logical explination, which wasn't so hard to do. "Dean. This is rush hour. Just, calm down."

"Just shut up. How much longer til we get to wherever?" Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel, jaw clenched.
Sam sighed heavily, looking at the GPS. "On 95 here, another 8 hours. Alternative routes say longer. " he watched Dean process the information, his eyes darting at all of the signs.

A few lane changes and a twists and turns later, they were on a back road heaidng up toward Jackman,Maine.
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and cleared his throat,coughing a little. Sam staredover at him. It took a minute for Dean to notice.
"What?"
"You've been coughing for the last day or so. You good?" Sam pressed. "Cause, y'know if you're getting sick.."
Dean rolled his eyes and threw Sam the middle finger and then cranked up Aerosmith's Back in the Saddle.

Sam was startled awake by the Impala making a rough jolt side waysand rumbled across the gravel. All he saw was Dean jump out and sprint to the edge of the road, hands on his knees getting sick. Wincing in sympathy,Sam knew that even if Dean's physical wounds were on the mend, the heaving must be jarring.
Rolling down the window, he cleared his throat, "Dean? You alright?"
Dean just waved a hand behind him, indicating that he's "good". If by "good" meant puking the rest of their breakfast, lunch and dinner, then Dean was indeed "good."

Typical. If Dean was getting sick, this was going to be a hell of a "Bigfoot hunt".