Author's Note: I hope you all like this chapter. It's a connector chapter. It is needed to get to the next part. Enjoy! Please review.

Sam turned from the computer and looked at Dean with confusion. "You have Sam for what?"

"Bobby wants us to spend the next couple of weeks with him." He answered without answering the question.

"Oh." Sam understood the implication that Bobby wanted to spend the last weeks of Dean's life with him. Honestly, Sam felt that was a good idea. He didn't want to be alone when the Hell hounds came and left Sam with his brother's cold dead body. Sam had been wondering exactly how he was going to handle that. What do you do after your brother has been ripped to shreds and his big eyes that are usually filled with him, with the man that is Dean Winchester, are suddenly empty and devoid of anything but color, and unfortunately, Sam knew enough that the color wouldn't stay much after the soul left anyway. Sam nodded.

"Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. I want to peruse Bobby's library anyway. I think he has a book that I need."

Dean knew that was a lie. Well maybe not a complete lie, but he knew that his brother wanted someone around when he died. Sometimes, though, Dean wished that Sam would just say what he needed to say despite Dean's insistence on adhering to the "No chick flick moment" rule. Why did Sam stick to that so fervently NOW of all times? All of his life, Sam had pushed and pushed at Dean to talk about his feelings, and now when Dean needed to the most Sam didn't push.

Sam went back to his computer and shut it off and began packing his things. Dean watched his little brother for a moment and wished he knew what EXACTLY was going on in his head. He had a general vague idea, but just once he wished he was inside his head and could hear the thoughts that passed through that freaky brain of his.

They had always functioned pretty much as one unit. All of their lives it had been Sam and Dean and then Sammy left him and then it was Dean, where's Sam? Oh at Stanford? You must be proud. Then the look that indicated that people weren't sure if he could make it on his own. Those four years were the biggest mystery of Dean's life. He wanted to know every second that had held his brother's attention at the school. Sure he knew things. He knew Sammy's schedule every single semester, he had managed to get that information sent to the post office box he kept in Missouri. He had even followed Sam to classes once or twice when he had gone to Stanford to check on him. It had bothered him that Sam hadn't realized that someone was following him. He had trained him better than that.

Dean sighed as he rolled up his jeans and threw them into his bag. To be honest, this whole last year, Dean hadn't been in tune with his brother. They hadn't finished a sentence for each other since Sam had returned to the land of the living, their connection; their understanding of one another seemed to be fundamentally broken. Dean wondered, as he zipped up his bag, if that was such a bad thing. It would hurt less wouldn't it? Sammy wouldn't be in as much pain if he wasn't as connected to Dean. Dean nodded to himself. Yes, that was the best thing in the world for Sammy.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye as his brother packed his bag. His brother had never been a mystery to him. Dean had always been pretty straight forward. The man treated feelings in pretty much the same way he treated anything supernatural, he wanted them vanquished, salted and burned. That was not something that should come as a surprise to anyone who knew the 28 year old Winchester. However, Sam had always known the emotions that were locked up in that brain of his. Always had known when Dean was hurting or when he was sad, but this past year, Dean had found a special "No Sammy Allowed" box and had locked his emotions up in there. The bond that they had always had seemed to be lost or broken. Sam missed his brother, and he wasn't even gone yet.

The trip to Bobby's was uneventful and Dean had driven clean through the night. They were greeted with open arms by Bobby and his dogs when they arrived the next evening and Bobby ushered them inside. Bobby had chili on the table for them, and Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Dean was definitely going to stink him out of the room tonight. Well, that's to say if he even manages to eat and keep down more than a few bites. Dean thought he was being smooth and that Sam didn't know that just about everything he ate came back up.

The three sat down to dinner and Sam excused himself and went to the restroom, he hated to admit it but he hadn't exactly been eating either and the sight of Bobby's chili didn't do much to help his stomach.

"How are you Dean?" Bobby asked when Sam left the room. Dean put his spoon down and sighed. He ran a hand down his face and he let out an ironic chuckle.

"As well as can be expected. I'm more worried about Sam than myself."

"He's a big boy Dean."

"I know he is. I've told him as much as well. I'm going to miss him."

"He's going to miss you too."

"I just feel like we aren't as close as we were."

"Maybe Sam is protecting himself."

"I hope he is. I would too. But I still miss him."

"He's right there Dean."

"I don't want…" Sam came back in the kitchen and Dean picked up his spoon again and took a big bite of the meal that he wasn't hungry for. He forced it down his stomach and then excused himself to the bathroom. His stomach was rolling. He was probably going to throw up for the tenth time this week. He was becoming worse than a bulimic on a binge.

Bobby watched Dean run to the bathroom and he became more resolved than ever to do what he had planned.

"He's not eating." Sam said with a sigh.

"Neither are you Sam." Sam gave a sad chuckle and played with the spoon in his bowl.

"I guess not. I eat enough to let Dean pretend that I'm eating and Dean eats enough for me to pretend that he is eating. Bobby, I miss him. Something is off between us. I have never been this disconnected from my brother."

"How is the progress coming on breaking the deal?" Sam looked up at him and then back down at the bowl.

"I don't want to talk about it." Dean came back to the room and took his place. He took a big gulp of his water and sighed. "I'm really beat Bobby. I'm going to go to bed."

"I'll help you clean up Bobby and then I'm right behind you Dean."

"Just go on to bed Sam. You need your sleep too." Sam nodded and followed his brother up the stairs and into the bedroom they would share for the remainder of Dean's life. The thought made him shudder. Dean looked at his brother and tilted his head; Sam tried to etch that look into his memory. He wanted to remember every single facial expression and look his brother gave.

"You okay dude?"

"Yeah. Just cold."

"Want one of my blankets?"

"Nah. I'm fine." Dean nodded and took off his jeans and settled back into the bed.

"Night Sam."

"Night Dean." Both wanted to say 'I love you' but couldn't force themselves to do so. Both actually fell asleep that night without much tossing and turning. Sleep had been like food, mostly pretended for the sake of the other, and not really occurring. Sam wondered, as he was drifting to sleep, if the reason he was so tired and so ready to sleep was because he felt safe in Bobby's house with Bobby downstairs. He decided that was it and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Bobby waited until midnight before going up to their room and looking in on them. He tapped Sam's shoe and he didn't wake, he did the same with Dean and Dean stayed sleeping. Bobby hadn't counted on the boys throwing up most of what they ate and had worried that they hadn't gotten enough of the drug in their systems to keep them knocked out.

"Alright Noah, do your magic." A dark figure came from behind Bobby raised his arms and began the ritual. All Bobby could hear in his head was Sam saying, "I would do anything to save my brother."

"Please forgive me Sam." Bobby prayed.