Despite his best efforts, Dean couldn't figure out what his dad was hunting. Under the circumstances, he didn't let Sam leave the house, despite his complaints, but he himself left a couple of times for less than five minutes at a stretch. He told Sam he was doing recon, but the fact was, he was looking for meteor rocks. He didn't find any, though. He supposed if there were any near enough to the cabin to be reached within a few minutes, they were probably buried and difficult enough to find that he wouldn't have spotted any within five minutes.

The supplies were supposed to last a week. They probably should have been enough for two weeks, but Sam and Dean had never been very good at rationing, and Sam was still growing. After six days, they were down to the cereal they didn't really like, some raw fruits and vegetables they'd been avoiding, and one box of macaroni and cheese.

"What are we gonna do if he doesn't come back?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't look up from the TV. "He'll come back."

"But—"

Dean elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't talk like that."

After seven days, they were down to the disgusting emergency protein bars Dad had dumped in the bottom of their suitcases. At that point, Dean stopped eating. He let Sam think he was, but it was more important that Sam got enough.

But Sam was growing antsier by the hour. "Dean, we really need to talk about—"

Without food, Dean had zero patience. "You want me to double your training for the day?"

"You think it's a good idea to be burning calories we don't have?"

"You think it's a good idea to argue with me?"

"You're not gonna make me double my training when you know we don't have food."

"Try me."

Sam rolled his eyes.

After eight days, they were down to condiments and a little milk.

Sam refused to get out of bed on the ninth day. Dean shouted at him, shook him, and finally took the blankets away, but Sam wouldn't budge.

"Training starts at seven. You know the drill, Sammy."

Sam laid on his stomach, clutching his pillow, his head turned to one side. "I'm hungry."

Dean swallowed hard. It was his job to take care of Sam and look after him.

"Can we go outside?"

"Dad said—"

Sam turned around and sat up straight on the bed. "He said he'd be back in less than a week."

"Sammy . . ." Dean shook his head. "He'll come back today. You'll see."

"Can't we wander around and see if we can find another abandoned cabin to steal food from?"

Dean glanced toward the window. He'd done that before, but he never liked taking his chances like that, especially on hunts where Dad said it wasn't even safe to leave the hideout. "He'll come back today. Drink some extra water and hang in there."

Sam turned back around and flopped down onto his pillow again. Dean sighed and tossed the blankets back onto the bed. He didn't make Sam get up or train. He'd been right about burning calories. Once Sam did get up, they spent the whole day in front of the TV. Dean had felt worse hunger pains in his life, but these ones were quickly passing the point of being bearable.

It was starting to get dark when Sam spoke for the first time since that morning: "Dean, it hurts."

That was all it took. Dean switched off the TV and jumped up out of his seat. "Come on, Sammy."

Sam scrambled to follow. "Wait, what?"

"We're going to find something to eat." Dean grabbed a flashlight, shoved a gun in his pocket, and handed a knife to Sam. Then he trudged straight out of the front door of the cabin. Sam followed close on his heels.

They walked for about ten minutes before Dean started to realize exactly how abandoned their cabin was. They hadn't run into anything. Sam's brow was furrowed, but he didn't say anything.

Another ten minutes, and Dean was able to make out a farm house in the distance. The only problem was, the lights were on. That meant the owners were home.

"Maybe they can help us," Sam whispered.

Dean didn't even dignify that with his consideration. "We keep walking."

"Dean, we're not going to find anything."

"We can't just waltz in there and ask for help."

Sam threw up his hands. "Why not? We're already breaking rules."

Dean clenched his teeth. Their dad should have come back. If he didn't come back, something had gone wrong. If something had gone wrong, this hunt was even more dangerous than usual. That meant it was more dangerous than usual to ask for help.

Sam's voice became very small. "Dean, what if Dad is—"

"Don't say it."

Sam sighed. "I'm really hungry. And it's cold out here."

"Quick complaining. Whiner, is that all you do?"

Sam winced, and Dean let his breath out, pacing a little. The last thing he wanted to do was admit that Sam had a point, but he'd gone a day longer than Sam without food. This was going to get bad if they waited much longer.

"Okay," Dean said. "We'll go in through the side, find the kitchen, grab a few things, and run. Got it?"

"But if Dad doesn't come back, that won't—"

"Got it?"

Sam sighed.

They crept over to the side door. Dean was ready to pick the lock if he had to, but the door was unlocked.

They might have been alright, if it weren't for the fact that the door creaked.