A/N: A little late to the party, but here goes! This episode was emotionally nauseating in basically every way conceivable, so some Sammy angst ahoy (sorry, Sammy). Dean is his usual charming combination of jackass and big brother comfort.

Disclaimer: Kripke, The CW, yadda yadda.

"Who's this hippie?"

One question.

One question, three words, four syllables.

It's the sound of Sam's whole world crumbling apart.

His first thought isn't very useful.

No.

One word, one syllable. Letters reeking of denial.

The world could try its hand at a – what is it now, fourth? fifth? – attempt at an apocalypse, every Hell-spawn in existence could materialize in front of him aiming for his throat, and Sam wouldn't notice. His vision has been reduced to the staircase: sturdy wooden steps carrying the support beam of his entire life.

He stares at his brother, looks over at Rowena.

It didn't work.

For a moment, he feels strangely afloat. Like he's slowly being erased, piece by giant piece. Everything that makes him Sam, it's all fading. Because so much of who he is, is shared with Dean. Is because of his brother.

His anchor.

The only constant throughout his whole life.

All those hours spent crammed in the car, driving down the vast assortment of American backroads. Shady motel rooms. Dirty diners and dingy bars. Years of constant battle, of losses and sacrifices, of betrayal and fear and anger and pain. Of just barely keeping it together. Of toughening up and soldiering on anyway, for each other. All those near-misses. Every close-call. Reassuring banter. Patching each other up. Comfort offered in the guise of gentle ribbing and a slap on the shoulder.

All those memories. Memories they share with no one but each other.

Memories that now only belong to Sam.

Dean doesn't know me.

Despair builds in Sam's throat as he looks back at his brother. Dread unfurling in his stomach.

So if Dean doesn't remember him…

Where does that leave him?

With what, does that leave him?

Then Dean wheezes a laugh, the I-should've-been-a-comedian-I'm-so-friggin-hilarious laugh, looks at Rowena and grins.

"Look at his face." He turns back to Sam. "Kinda like that time when I ate all of your Halloween candy. Remember that?" He shakes his head, chuckles. Eyes sparkling but smile almost subdued. Nostalgic. "Classic."

Remember that?

…that time…

…I ate all of your Halloween candy…

Remember that?

Sam's mind whites out. Every thought, every emotion. It all vanishes.

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

Tries for a glare. For one of his famous bitch-faces.

Anything.

But relief is cancelling out all of it.

Because the comment is so purely Dean that it leaves no room for doubt.

A breathy laugh pushes its way through constricted airways. He shakes his head. Looks at Dean through suddenly stinging eyes.

Sees his Dean.

Manages, "Not funny."

His face twitches, but he doesn't know with what emotion.

Apparently, Dean does – Dean always knows, Dean will always know– because he's already down the stairs, jokester gone, and Sam meets him halfway and wraps his arms around him with a fierceness usually reserved for when one of them has been close to dying…

I've seen my brother die, but watching him become not him? This might actually be worse.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden dizziness, releases a shaky breath. Thinks, oh god, oh god thank you, thankyou-thankyou-thankyou…

Dean doesn't say anything. Only tightens his own hold, bears more of Sam's weight. Like it's nothing. Like it's second nature.

"It's over," he murmurs, because even though he's the one who moments ago didn't have a single solid memory from his entire life, Dean doesn't know how to stop being a big brother. "It's over now."

Three words. Four syllables.

The world shifting back on its axis.

Sam swallows around the fist-sized lump in his throat.

"You remember—"

"Your Sailor Moon period in third grade? Sure as hell wish I didn't – I mean, seriously, the cat? What the hell dude…"

"Dean."

"Yeah." Dean's voice is rough with assurance. With sincerity. Promise. "Yeah, Sam, I remember."

I remember everything.

I remember you.

Three words. Five syllables.

It's exactly what Sam needs to hear.

A/N: Yes, it was crucial that they hug it out - and since the writers keep withholding these precious moments from us...

I have at least one more missing scene planned, so tbc...