The more Sam tries to explain about being truly alone for the first time in his life and not really knowing what to do, the more Dean's hackles go up. "I just fixed up the Impala and drove," Sam finishes helplessly. "Did you look for me, Sam?" Sam stands there in guilty silence. "No, that's good," Dean says in a way that lets Sam know he doesn't think it's good at all. "We always told each other not to look for each other," he says. Dean adds that they've always ignored that. In fact, they ignored it so much that they never let us the viewers in on any of those discussions. Dean looks at his brother like he's some kind of alien he's never seen before. "Look, I'm still the same guy," Sam says in his defense. "Well, I'm not," Dean says and walks out.
At some point he comes back, because later they're both in the cabin and Dean's going through Sam's old phones. When Sam said he ditched his phones, he apparently meant he ditched them into a box and then kept the box where it could be retrieved at a moment's notice. Proving he really has changed, Dean passes up an offering of food so he can concentrate on the phones. Dean listens to old voicemail messages. After a while, he casts a withering glare in Sam's direction. Sam's like, "Whut?" Dean puts the phone on speaker and plays back a series of messages from young prophet, Kevin Tran. In the first message, he says he's managed to escape from Crowley and asks for Sam's help. The next message is from a week later, then three months later. By the time Kevin leaves his last message, six months have passed. Dean flicks the phone at Sam. "He was our responsibility, and you couldn't answer the damn phone." Sam stews in embarrassed silence.
Later, Sam uses his laptop to analyze Kevin's last message. He picks up someone in the background saying, "Last stop, Centreville." He's figured out that it's the Centreville in Michigan and not the Centreville in Maryland or the Centerville in Utah because Michigan is where Kevin's high school girlfriend is going to college. Dean is surprised when Sam wants to come with. "You were right," Sam says. "He was our responsibility, so let's find him." Sam tosses him the keys to the Impala. Dean's glad there are "no visible signs of douchery," but wonders why the inside smells like a dog. Sam plays dumb. I think he's playing, anyway.
Somewhere along the way, they stop at a motel. Dean contemplates a vending machine like it's the strangest thing he's ever seen. It's actually a nice character moment that shows, in a fairly subtle way, what it's like after a great ordeal to be presented with something most would take for granted. Two boys run past, shooting at each other with toy guns. Dean watches them and finds himself inspired to have a flashback to Purgatory.