Summary: Dean gets amnesia. Sam decides to let him keep it. Post S3. Warnings: established wincest, moral outrage, not fluff, not graphic.

A/N: I wrote this in the summer, and I didn't know if I should post it. It's different from the stuff I've been doing lately. It's a little strange, a sort of angsty wincest-what-if. It's fairly short (four parts) and it's just kind of a personal moral dilemma thing. I'll let you decide...

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its fandom, its characters or anything connected to them. I do not make money or profit in any way from this story.

Forget It (Part 1: All Gone) by frostygossamer

He opened one bleary eye. The light hurt so much he closed it again fast. It smelled like hospital. Not good. He forced both his eyes open. The off-white ceiling wasn't very interesting, so he tried to move his head. He regretted that straight off. His head felt heavy and it seemed to be wrapped in some kind of a bandage. What the hell had happened to him?

Across the room a pretty nurse noticed his movement and rushed across.

"Hi," she said in a sweetly soothing voice. "We're awake, are we? How are we feeling?"

Why on earth did nurses always have to talk that way? 'We' this. 'We' that. He choked back his irritation and tried to speak. His voice was just a croak.

"Where am I?" he asked, the cliche making him wince inside.

"Holy Wellness Hospital. You were brought in last night, Mr, uh, Waylon," she added, glancing at his details, "with a head injury. How does it feel?"

"Like a jackhammer pounding in my skull," he complained.

"I'll go get you something for that," the nurse replied. "I'm Betty, by the way."

Betty hurried off in search of painkillers. He watched her go, smiling to himself. Nice butt, he thought, at least a stay in hospital had some compensations.

"Waylon?" he mused. "Nope. Don't sound familiar."

With the painkillers came a doctor. He stood by his bed and talked to him about how he was feeling, and how he had gotten there. He had been brought in by some guy after a car accident, so the guy had said. He asked him what he remembered and he said not a thing, not even his name.

The doctor tutted, made some notes then smiled, and assured him that his amnesia should only be temporary. It could happen after the kind of injury that he had sustained, but his memories would probably come back, fairly soon. Permanent memory loss could happen, but it wasn't all that common. He wasn't much comforted by that thought.

The doctor wandered off and he lay back and tried to sleep.

After another hour or so he became aware of two men talking in low tones near the door to his room.

"So how is he?" asked a tall, dark-haired guy.

"Well, physically he's fine, Mr. Jennings. Nothing but superficial damage. We've run a scan and it looks like his brain wasn't seriously hurt, just a little bruised. However, as I feared, he IS suffering from amnesia," the doctor explained.

"Amnesia?" the dark guy asked, sounding very concerned.

"Yes, indeed," the doctor replied. "But it's likely that his memory will return gradually. Some temporary amnesic symptoms aren't unusual in cases of this sort. They're seldom permanent."

The guy looked upset. "Thank you, Doctor," he muttered, as the doc walked away.

The guy came over to his bed.

"Hi, Dean," he said.

"Hi," Dean replied.

So his name was Dean, huh? He gave the strange guy a half-hearted smile.

"So, you're amnesic," the guy said. "Guess you don't remember me then, huh?"

"Sorry, no," Dean replied. "Amnesia equals no memory, right? Hell, didn't even remember my own name."

"OK, well you're Dean," the guy said, "and I'm Sam."

"Pleased to meet you, Sam," Dean said, extending a hand.

Sam passed up the handshake. "I'm your... partner, Dean," he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Partner as in...?" he asked dubiously.

"...as in boyfriend," Sam completed.

"Uh," was all Dean could reply. Now that was unexpected.

~O~

Days passed and Dean's memory still hadn't returned. His doctor told Sam that as time passed that was less and less likely. The amnesia might very well be permanent. His memory could start to come back any time, in chunks maybe, but they should get used to the idea that it might never return.

As soon as Dean was well enough to be discharged from the hospital, Sam picked him up in his car and took him home. Dean was very impressed with the car, a '67 Chevy Impala.

"Well, at least I'm with a guy who's got taste," he said.

Sam smirked. "The Impala's yours, Dean," he chuckled, as he started the engine and pulled away.

"Oh, then guess I got style anyways," Dean replied.

Home was a small two-bedroom apartment not far from the hospital. It looked pretty basic and impersonal.

"Rented it to be near the hospital," Sam explained. "This isn't home. Home is, well... You'll find out soon enough."

Dean sighed. "Guess we got catching up to do, but right now all I wanna do is sleep. OK?"

Sam smiled sympathetically. "Sure, Dean," he said. "I put your stuff in your room. It's the one on the right. I'm in the one on the left."

Dean nodded. He was a little relieved that he wasn't expected to share a room with this guy. Partner or not, Sam was still a total stranger to him. He went to his room and lay down on the bed. Almost instantaneously, he was out like a light.

A few minutes later Sam stuck his head in the room, to check on him. When he saw that he was sleeping peacefully, he smiled and went back in the living room. Then he called Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Oh hi, Sam. How's things?"

"Got Dean back from the hospital. He seems OK."

"Still no memory?"

"Nada. But apart from that he's good."

"Can I speak to him?"

"He's asleep. Maybe later."

"Sure. You OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little fazed by Dean, is all."

"Well, it's gotta be kinda weird. Dean with no memory. Like a blank sheet of paper waiting to be written on. Guess you're gonna have to clue him in with the last thirty-some years. Glad I'm not gonna be part of THAT conversation."

"That's just it, Bobby."

"Huh?"

"Not gonna tell him."

"Whaddya mean, not tell him?"

"I mean I'm not gonna tell him about Mom, Dad, a lost childhood, Jess, Dad's deal, his deal, Hell, our real freakin' surnames, even that we're brothers, nothing."

"Sam! You can't..."

"Bobby, Dean has a chance to start again, without the regrets, without the nightmares, without the pain. I'm not gonna take that away from him."

There was silence from Bobby's end of the line, then,

"Yeah, I guess. But what if he starts to remember?"

"The doc said he might never remember, but if he does then no problem. If old Dean comes back then fine. If he doesn't then so much the better."

"OK then Sam. So take care and tell Dean I... Oh yeah, well, bye."

Sam closed his cell and put it back in his pocket. He was doing the right thing. He wasn't being selfish, no. He was just looking out for Dean. He owed him that.

~O~

Sam had gotten himself a job clerking in a local store, so there was money for rent and food. Dean spent his days recuperating, watching TV and hanging out at the local diner.

Cathy, the waitress at the diner, was a bit of a looker. Dean couldn't help but watch her appreciatively, as she glided around the place flirting with the customers. If he hadn't been gay...

But apparently he was in a relationship with Sam. Sam seemed to be a real nice guy, and he couldn't deny there was something there, some affection certainly.

They were still sleeping in separate rooms.

TBC

A/N: Thirty years gone and the relationship he's in seems off. Dean's all confused.