Angela had demanded they all come back to the house after the scare within the morgue. Joshua had responded by ordering them Chinese food.

Caleb had followed Dean onto the back porch, pushing a takeaway box into the boy's hands and sitting against the rail Dean leant against, rocking a bottle of beer on the decking for a moment before eating his own Chinese, surreptitiously watching Dean.

"We still don't have him," Dean muttered eventually, and Caleb turned his head, giving the boy his undivided attention "They're all really happy, but we've not got Sam. He's not here and they're happy."

"They're happy he's not dead, Dean," Caleb said "When we heard about that kid, and we were so sure it was Sam, we were all shit scared. And if we were terrified, you were going to be worse." He looked at Dean, watching as the kid slipped down to sit beside him "They're just happy he's not dead, because if he's not dead we can keep looking for him. He's not dead, we'll find him."

"You're such a chick," Dean muttered, making Caleb grin "What if we don't find him Caleb? What if he's dead and we haven't found out?"

"Then we'll keep looking," the man responded "We're going to find him Dean. We've called on as many favours as we could think of. Half the hunters out there are looking for him directly, the others will sing out if they catch word. He's not going to just drop off the face of the world."

Dean nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and looked up startled as the smooth glass of the beer bottle hit against his hand, making him stare at Caleb with wide eyes.

"Don't drink it all squirt," the older man said with a grin "Consider it a birthday present. Just don't tell Angela."

Dean wandered into what passed as Bobby's back yard, dropping the duffel he was carting around after him and crossing further through the yard, coming to where it ended and the salvage yard stretched through the acres Bobby owned. He threw the boot open of one of the old cars that lined Bobby's yard, and pulled out numerous bottles and cans. Sam watched him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes leaping from his brother – now lining the cans up in the bed of one of a truck – to the duffel lying in the dust before him.

"Dean?" he called out as his brother wandered back. The elder Winchester gave him a lazy grin, and crouched down before the bag, tugging at the zip and revealing the contents within.

"Hell!" Sam said, startled as he stared down at the numerous weapons lying inside. Dean's grin became more amused now, and he grabbed up one of the top weapons, quickly checking the bullets within it before holding it butt first to Sam.

"Take the gun Sam," he teased, bouncing it lightly in his grip, dragging another gun from the bag as Sam took the Taurus, and rising to his feet, pulling the bag up with him.

"You need this much to hunt with?" Sam asked slowly, eyes still fixed on the duffel of weapons, and Dean glanced at him, smirking.

"There's more than this Sammy," he said easily, putting the bag down beside Bobby where he was sat on the back step of his porch, "Just want to see you shoot one gun before we start on the others." He was moving back to his brother before he heard Bobby snort behind him; there were a lot of weapons in the boot of the Impala, and Bobby kept even more in storage in his house, as did Jim, and the elder man knew that Dean didn't know how to use some, he'd never needed to use the crossbow for instance, it was just there.

"She's got about five bullets in her," he told Sam, nodding to the gun that was nearly forgotten in the young man's hand, Sam looked down at it, and then up at Dean again, and his brother nodded now to the set up targets on the bed of the truck.

"Just aim for the targets, Sammy," he said "Don't matter if you don't hit, Bobby doesn't care if the truck gets potted."

"It's Sam," Sam muttered and Bobby grumbled behind them, but he turned and faced the truck in question. Dean raised an eyebrow as he noted Sam's stance, but couldn't say anything before his brother was firing, five quick shots shattering the quiet of the air, causing several birds from further in the scrap yard to take flight in fear.

"I've shot guns before," he said sagely, handing the gun over to his shocked brother, stepping back several steps "You should have listened; it's easier if you listened to that." He twisted on his heel, moving past Bobby and back into the house.

"Have you spoken to Sam?" Bobby asked quietly, as Dean stepped slowly over to him. Dean shot him a bewildered look, and nodded slowly, stashing both guns into the back, and lowering himself onto the stoop beside the older man.

"We talked the other day Bobby," he said slowly "After you dragged me from the car, we spoke then, I don't understand." He scrubbed a hand across his face, blinked out at the quiet yard.

"And you listened?" Bobby asked, and Dean looked at him, confused, making the other man cast his eyes at the sky "When you spoke. You listened to him? You know what went on whilst he was with that other family?" Dean looked startled, and Bobby shook his head, dragging his hat off his head and cuffing the eldest Winchester boy with it.

"What was that for?" Dean asked, rubbing at his skull

"You're an idjit," Bobby gruffed at him, standing up and moving into the yard, returning the hat to his head.

"Where are you going?" Dean called after him

"Can't stand the girly moments," Bobby responded, fishing for his keys "Going into town. Talk to your brother before I get back. And don't kill the dog anymore."