Summary: Tag to season 2 ep "Born Under a Bad Sign". How do you really know who to trust?

Disclaimer: Not mine… still working on it, tho.

Things You Learn About a Guy

The silence in the car was comfortable. The song on the radio was a mellow guitar ballad, replacing the head banging percussion of the few songs before it. Sam chanced a glance at his brother, not missing the wince of pain as Dean straightened a bit in the driver's seat of the Impala.

"You okay?"

Dean shrugged his good shoulder, but didn't take his eyes from the road. "Shoulder's sore."

Sam nodded. Understatement. He'd never actually been shot before, but he'd seen what bullets could do. Amazing that one little piece of metal could do so much damage to human flesh. He was pretty sure his brother was in a fair amount of pain, but he was just as sure that his stubborn sibling would never admit to it. Sore. Right.

"Want me to drive?"

Dean finally glanced over, his eyes clearly telegraphing the answer.

"Come on, Dean." Sam knew it was futile, but he couldn't help but try. "I was serious back at Bobby's. You look like crap. I know you're in pain and I'm pretty sure the only sleep you've had in the last few days was when you were unconscious."

"You're not driving my car, Sam."

"What? Why?"

Dean turned a surprise look to his brother. "Why? Uh, in case you forgot, you stole my car, Sam!"

Sam shrugged and returned his brother's gaze. "I thought you said it wasn't my fault, Dean. I was possessed, remember?" He couldn't help but grin as he threw his brother's words back at him. The truth was, he didn't really remember stealing the Impala, but he did remember coming to briefly and realizing he was driving his brother's prized possession – and that Dean was nowhere around. He'd also realized that Dean was going to be pissed. In retrospect, that was probably what the demon had intended. Sam was pretty sure Dean would do everything possible to find him, but he had surmised those efforts would be doubled if it included finding his precious car.

But, Sam had been worried; Dean would come for him, but that was just what the demon had wanted and Sam had been helpless to warn his brother. Fortunately, Dean was… well… Dean. The demon hadn't really known what it was dealing with. Dean wasn't about to give up on his little brother – no matter how obvious it seemed that he should. Sam was sure of that now. And, he found, he could live with it.

"Yeah, well…" Dean couldn't keep the grin from his face. "You let it steal my car. Don't think I'm gonna just forgive you for that."

Sam grinned, his eyebrows disappearing under his hair. "Let me get this straight. A demon possesses your brother, actually shoots you and then tries to rearrange your face, and all you're mad about is the fact that it stole your car?"

Dean shrugged and winced as the ache in his shoulder flared. "A man has to have priorities."

Sam shook his head. He would never understand his brother.

"I can't believe you lied to Bobby."

Dean's smile faded. "You mean about that Steve Wandell guy?" Dean pursed his lips. "Didn't really lie."

Sam snorted in disbelief. "Dean, you told him you'd never heard of the guy. How is that not lying?"

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's not really lying when the ly-ee knows it's lie."

Sam shook his head, having trouble following his brother's less than logical stream of thought. "Come again?"

"Bobby knew."

"What? How could he know?"

Dean shrugged. "That man knows a lot of things. " He glanced over at this brother, his eyes trying to reassure the younger man. "Trust me. Bobby's loyalties aren't in question."

Sam breathed deeply. He wanted to believe that. He really did. Bobby had been there for them after Dad… that was someplace he didn't really want to go right now. He wanted to believe Bobby would keep their secrets, but he was starting to understand that they couldn't really trust anyone. He regretted spilling his guts to Ellen – ever since finding out that Gordon had gotten information from some source at the roadhouse, it was apparent that talking had been a mistake. Trust was something they could not afford. They could only trust themselves. But really, that was nothing new.

"Look, Dean, I know you like the guy and you and Dad have a lot of respect for him, but what makes you think he's gonna side with us on this one? I mean, this was another hunter. For all we know he was friends with this guy."

Dean acknowledged his brother's concerns. "Maybe. But, believe me, Sam, if Bobby was gonna turn us in, we'd already know it. We can trust him."

Sam wanted to accept his brother's words, but couldn't suppress a small twinge of doubt. "You seem pretty sure about him."

Dean shrugged. "Let's just say I had the opportunity to spend a bit of time with him a while back. I learned a lot."

Sam was intrigued, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean realized his brother was waiting for some elaboration and cleared his throat. "It was a few months after you left for school. Dad and I were helping Bobby out with a pretty nasty poltergeist problem. Thing ended up tossing me down a flight of stairs, racked my knee up pretty good. Dad had another job and it was pretty clear I wasn't gonna be much help on one leg, so, Bobby offered to let me stay on while I healed up. I helped him out in the yard and he taught me a lot about what makes these evil sons-a-bitches tick. I guess you could say we clicked."

Sam was smiling. It was nice to know his brother could really connect with someone – even if it was a strange old hermit like Bobby Singer. "How long did you stay?"

"A couple months."

Sam sat forward in surprise. "A couple months? Dean, what the hell did you do to your knee?"

"ACL." Dean said simply. "No big deal. Little surgery, little therapy, lot of beer."

Sam was actually speechless. He had never even known his brother had been hurt – apparently seriously hurt -- on a hunt in the time they were apart. "Why the hell didn't you ever tell me? Why didn't you or Dad call me?"

Dean couldn't hide his look of confusion. "Call you? Sam, I tried calling you more than a few times after you left and all I ever got was your voicemail. Why would I think it would be any different just because I was laid up?"

Sam nodded, knowing it was a fair response. In the first few months after leaving, Sam had not wanted contact with his father and, by extension Dean, in order to convince himself he had done the right thing. He hadn't returned any of Dean's calls and, eventually, his brother had stopped calling. Sam had gotten what he wanted. It had taken a long time for him to realize he had made a mistake. Not Stanford. That would never be a mistake. But completely cutting Dean from his life was. And the more their lives took these weird turns, the more it became apparent that his brother was probably the one constant in his life that would never, ever, under any circumstances give up on him. He just wished he had realized that before.

Dean watched his brother. "Don't worry about it, Sam. Bobby's on our side. We mean a hell of a lot more to him than some random hunter. Besides, he knows it wasn't you as much as I do. He's not gonna turn on us."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Okay. I wasn't really…. I just…"

Dean nodded in return. "Yeah. Me too. We're just gonna have to be careful who we trust."

"Like always."

Dean winced again and Sam couldn't help but notice how his brother's eyes were squinting into the darkness. On Dean, squinting meant headache. And Sam couldn't help the guilt that sprang up.

"Look, if you won't let me drive, then let's find somewhere to lay up for a while. I'm wiped, man. And I don't even have a hole in my shoulder."

Dean looked like he was about to argue, but another wince seemed to change his mind. "Yeah. There's a town up ahead. We'll find a motel and crash for tonight. Regroup in the morning. Okay?"

Sam smiled. "Sounds like a plan, big brother."

The motel they found wasn't much, but it had clean sheets and warm water and they were both physically and emotionally exhausted from the events of the past week. As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, Dean's reserves had given out and he had leaned back against the seat, his eyes closed tightly against the obvious discomfort of his shoulder wound. Sam had offered to take care of getting their room and had even carried both duffle bags inside without so much as a protest from his older brother. That in itself had been an indication of just how far gone Dean really was.

Once inside the room, Sam had insisted on checking Deans shoulder and was pleased to see that although the wound looked painful, it did not look infected, He had re-bandaged the shoulder, forced a couple of Tylenol down his brother's throat and watched with raised eyebrows as his grumbling sibling crawled beneath the blanket and relaxed quickly into sleep.

Sam's own arm was starting to sting, and he pulled out the burn cream from the first aid kit. Quickly spreading the cream across the burn, Sam noticed the original raised skin of the demon's binding link had already faded into a slightly pink scar, leaving the new burn that Bobby had inflicted to break the link an angry red against the pale skin. He harbored no resentment against the man for what he had done. Hell, he had probably saved Dean's life. Sam had no doubt the demon would have killed his brother slowly and painfully if the older hunter had not interfered.

Bobby had admitted that he really had had no idea if burning the symbol was going to actually break the link or just piss the demon off more, but he figured he had to try something. Dean was already wounded and considering the pounding he was taking from the demon, Bobby was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to find a way out of the situation himself. It was a desperate idea, but he figured he'd had no choice but to give it a shot.

Luckily, it had worked. The demon had been forced to leave Sam, and outside of a little bit of discomfort from the new burn and a slight headache – not to mention the stun from Dean's unexpected right cross – Sam's body had fared pretty well despite being used as a puppet by an unforgiving demonic presence.

Of course, that didn't really help with the guilt.

He had been awake for some of it. Just like he had told Dean in the car, he remembered watching Wandell die, he remembered smelling Jo's fear. He remembered the look on Dean's face right before the bullet forced him off the edge of the dock and into the cold water of the lake. Sam's attention was drawn back to his brother as Dean shifted, burrowing deeper into the blanket. It's a miracle that Dean didn't end up hypothermic considering the temperature of the Minnesota lake, but he seemed to be fine – if you could consider a bullet wound and probable concussion fine.

A flash of memory of watching his fist slam into his brother's face made him wince, and he rubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired. He wanted to stay awake to watch over his brother, but he knew he would not be able to physically stay alert much longer. Dean had driven from Bobby's with no problem, so he probably didn't have a concussion, and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully now, but Sam's guilt just wouldn't leave him alone.

"Sam."

The low, muffled voice caught his attention and he slowly crossed the room to perch on the edge of the bed opposite his brother. Dean's eyes were only partially opened and his heavy lids blinked slowly in the low light from the lamp.

Sam couldn't help but grin at his brother who, at the moment, looked like a tired five year old fighting bedtime. "You okay?"

"I would be if you'd just stop moping around and go to bed."

Sam's grin widened. "I'm not tired, Dean."

"Right. Me neither. Let's find a bar…" he started to roll forward, his hand pushing the blanket back.

"Never mind." Sam quickly grabbed the edge of the blanket and draped it back over his brother's prone body. "I get the message."

Dean smiled and snuggled back into the warm bed. "Good. Now shut up and go to sleep before I have to get up and kick your ass."

Sam shook his head as he kicked off his shoes and lay back on the bed. His body instantly sagged into the soft mattress as he gave in to his exhaustion. He barely heard his brother's soft voice…

"Sammy, light."

"You get it."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Can't move. You shot me, remember?"

Sam forced his head to turn on the pillow and glared at his brother. "What happened to 'it wasn't you, Sammy?"

Dean's eyes didn't open, but a corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. "It wasn't. Now get the light."

Sam just shook his head and reached for the lamp. He would never understand his brother. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

The End