A.N.: Sorry it has taken me so long to update, it's been a rough week. Just a bit of comfort and this chapter, we won't get to the salt and burn until the next chapter. I hope you enjoy, thank you so, so, SO much for all of the support. You guys rock my socks!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

He jerks back into being with a choked gasp.

"Whoa easy Dean, easy."

His mind registers that there is light pooling into wherever he is and his hands are digging into leather. Not wood, not dirt, not fleeting air, but leather.

His baby.

"Where?" He grouses, patting the palm that cups around his shoulder by habit.

"The Impala." Sam replies, taking his hand away from his place in the passenger seat but his eyes still shooting beams of concern directly at his older brother.

Dean pants as he pushes up on his elbows. "What?"

Sam smiles at him. "You're out Dean. We got you out."

Dean still feels like his thoughts are having trouble coming to a coherent agreement as he mumbles. "We?"

The older man driving his baby turns in his seat and tilts his head at him. "Yeah, we."

Bobby.

His bandaged hands reach out to the other hunter taking note of the crimson stained gauze pulled tight around Bobby's head.

"Your head,"

Bobby pulls his cap down a bit further on his head and chuckles dryly. "Yeah, seems to be going around."

"Huh?" he questions reaching up to touch his own head. His gauze wrapped head.

"You were bleeding pretty badly, I know it's a crap job, but it's just until we get to the hospital."

"Hospital?" His mouth is dry and tastes faintly of vomit. He has to clear his throat several times to get out words that don't sound roughshod with pain. "Why?"

"Dean," Sam begins, his voice soft and full of compassion. "You really wrecked yourself bro. Your hands…" he breaks off as Dean flexes his hands with a hiss. "Jesus Dean, your hands are really bad."

"I'm fine." He grunts.

"Fine?" Sam scoffs. "Dean, you almost…" his younger brother's Adam apple bobs up and down, an action that is synonymous with Dean's guilt.

In an instant Dean slides back into his rightful place as the protector in this relationship and he stretches one of his covered hands to grab onto Sam's jacket.

"Almost is part of the job Sammy." He coughs to clear more grit from his mouth. "Almost makes for great stories."

Sam laughs and Bobby snorts.

"Almost doesn't count." Dean finishes with what he hopes is a winning grin.

Bobby nods. "Damn straight it doesn't."

"Yeah," Sam agrees, passing back a half full water bottle to his brother. "You need to try to drink this before we get to the hospital unless you'd rather have an IV. And slowly, I don't really want to have you puke on me…twice."

"Puke?" Dean mutters, quickly getting tired of sounding like a parrot.

Sam grimaces and says, "Yeah, it's no big deal." As Dean spies the splattered orange stain across his brother's T shirt.

"Ugh," he whispers.

"Couldn't stop you from gulping down the warm Gatorade in the back seat, and then well…you couldn't really handle it."

"Sorry dude." He grumbles.

"It's fine. But you need to hydrate before we get to hospital."

"We're not going to the hospital."

"What?" Sam and Bobby ask simultaneously.

Dean sees disbelief and anger start to light up on both of their faces. They think he is just being a stubborn ass, which he is. But he has a good reason.

"Yet," he states with a nervous chortle. "There is something else we have to do first."

"What does that mean Dean?" Sam asks and it doesn't escape Dean's notice that he is fighting to stay calm.

Dean's hands open and close in the air, remembering the feel of feather light material in them, remembering the desolation that had consumed her heart.

"We have to take care of Lily Sam." Dean says. "Once and for all."

Sam takes a moment to take in Dean's countenance before he turns back towards Bobby with a curt nod.

"You heard him Bobby."

The oldest of the trio sighs. "Fine, but I ain't gettin' thrown into any more trees. I've reached my head injury quota for the week."

Sam and Dean smother a laugh and reply with. "Yes Sir."