Dean knows comic books are make-believe and red capes don't give you powers.
He still closes his eyes and pretends. He thinks if he can be Superman, just for today, just for the moment, just long enough to jump off of this crappy, abandoned shed he can save the world.
He can protect Sammy from the monsters that really do sometimes lurk under the bed.
He can fly to Bobby the next time he or Sam are sick or injured or hungry, and Dad isn't around.
He can use his powers to hunt better and faster than Dad, and then Dad can stay with them always.
"Dean?" Sammy questions as he struggles to hold the camcorder up properly. "Are you really going to fly?"
"Yeah, Sammy, I'm Superman," Dean says. "So hold the camera up straight, would ya?"
"It's too big," Sam says. And it is. So Dean huffs and decides the video will just have to be crooked before turning back to the shed's ledge.
The breeze picks up, rustling the leaves that haven't yet blown off the trees, and Dean imagines flying away with Sammy and jumps.
He's barely recovered from rolling across the dirt covered ground when he hears Sam drop the camcorder.
"I'm going to fly too!" Sammy shouts.
Dean turns around and shouts back, "Sammy, no!"
But it's too late.
There's a sickening crack as Sam hits the ground.
Dean's over him immediately, asking him what hurts.
Then before he really knows what he's doing, he's pulled his cape off and tied it around Sam's arm in a makeshift sling and pulled Sam on to his bike with him.
He's whispering a thousand things to him as he holds him as tightly as possible without letting go of the handlebars, trying, in vain, to keep Sam's free falling tears at bay.
Some of it is meant to be reassuring: I got you, Sammy , A doctor will fix your arm right up , and No, the bike isn't going to fall over. Promise.
Some of it is closer to admonishment: No, of course, Batman can't fly, you idiot, You thought I was really flying? Of course I wasn't flying, and Just because I do something dumb doesn't mean you should do it too. Geez, Sammy.
He pedals closer and closer to the hospital, which is, thankfully, only a mile and half from the abandoned shed they had chanced upon after Trick-Or-Treat, and his thoughts are going as fast as he is.
He wonders what will become of Sam's bike, the camcorder, and the candy they left behind. He immediately feels selfish and ashamed because Sammy is way more important than a bag full of Snickers and Babe Ruths.
He wonders what he will do about the people at the hospital. He knows he needs to come up with a lie for why he and Sam were out without a grown-up, and he's learned the hard way that telling the truth will earn him a dozen or so odd looks from strangers and a long lecture from his dad. Regular people just don't need to know about ghosts or hunting, apparently.
Mostly, though, he wonders why he wore the wrong costume. If he had been Batman, he never would have jumped and neither would his copycat little brother.
Once they're at the hospital, Dean begs and pleads to stay with Sam and Sam cries even harder when they try to make Dean go out to the E.R.'s waiting area. So Dean ends up sitting moderately out of the way as Sam gets a cast, quietly and guilty sipping a Coke a nurse brought him, thinking he really needs to find a phone to call Dad, even though he really doesn't want to, because the hospital won't let them leave alone.
Finally, he decides he'll call Bobby; it's who he's supposed to call if Dad doesn't come back by Monday anyway. He just hopes Omaha is as close to Sioux Falls as he thinks it is. They look close on a map.
Bobby picks up on the fifth ring, curses ardently, and tells Dean he'll be there as soon as he can, but it sounds like as soon as he can is going to be a long while.
Nearly five hours, two hushed but angry conversations between Bobby and the people at the hospital, and one trip back to the shed for the things they left behind later, they're sitting in the backseat of Bobby's Chevelle.
Dean hooks his arm around Sam, wary of the blue plaster wrapped around his left arm. He blinks blearily at Dean, only half conscious as his head lolls against Dean's shoulder. "Sorry I let you get hurt, Sammy."
Sam frowns at him, like he's not sure how this was Dean's fault but also not sure that it wasn't. "It's okay, Dean. I should of known Batman couldn't fly."
"Hey, it's cool. I know you didn't know. But from now on, I'm Batman. Cause I know he can't fly and doesn't have powers," Dean says. "And I don't either."
"You don't need powers, Dean," Sam says, his head drooping farther, nearly falling to Dean's lap.
"He's right, you know," Bobby says, glancing back at Dean in the rearview mirror. "You didn't need any powers to get Sammy to the hospital or to call me. Seemed like some fine superhero work to me."
"I don't need powers to be a superhero?" Dean asks.
"Not in my book," Bobby says. "Besides, didn't you just tell Sammy that Batman doesn't have powers?"
"Well, yeah," Dean says. "But he has the Batcave and the Batmobile and everything. That's almost like having powers."
"Well, you ain't old enough to drive," Bobby says. "And for now, my house can be the Batcave, how's that?"
Dean grins. "Okay. Awesome."
That night and for the rest of the week they spend at Bobby's, he falls asleep whispering, "I'm Batman."
Even though his dad comes back and tells Dean otherwise, asking how he could be so careless as to let Sammy jump off a roof, there's a part of Dean that never stops believing it.