Author's note: Still don't own Supernatural. However, in this chapter, you will meet a character that is purely from my own imagination. Hopefully, you'll like her. Usually, I prefer to allow the boys to sort their problems out alone, but she seemed to fit with the story, so I put her in. Let me know what you think. More mild swearing in this chapter, but nothing stronger than what they say on the show.

Chapter Two

Taking a deep breath, he set the food on the nearby table and rushed farther into the room for some clue as to where Dean could be. "He can't be far," Sam thought, feeling the keys to the Impala still in his jacket pocket. Sam was just about to charge out to look for his brother when he heard sounds coming from the bathroom.

Sam hurried in to see Dean bent over the toilet, heaving. Sam ran over and patted his back. When Dean stopped, he leaned back against the bathtub. Sam touched his brother's forehead. It felt normal and Sam felt grateful that at least Dean wasn't running a fever.

"Dean, what happened?"

Dean's forehead was scrunched up and he squinted up at Sam. "My head hurts," he whispered.

"Come on. Let's go back to the room. You can lie down there," Sam said.

Dean allowed Sam to help him to his feet and lead him back to his bed. Once there, Sam tucked him in as though Dean were a young child. Dean didn't say anything and Sam couldn't help thinking that Dean, if he were his normal self, would have so many things to say in this situation. Things like, "I'm not two, Sammy. I can tuck myself in" or "Are you gonna read me a bedtime story too?"

Sam stood. "I'm gonna get you some aspirin for your head."

As Sam moved, he noticed that Dean shut his eyes in pain at the light now hitting him. Sam closed the curtains, grabbed some pills and set Dean's food and coffee on the nightstand beside him.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since before we found the doppelganger. You need to eat before you take the pills."

"Doppelganger?" Dean asked, frowning. "What is that?"

Sam sat down on his bed and sighed. "It's a creature that takes on the appearance of another person and then wrecks havoc on that person's life."

"And we were hunting one?"

"Yeah. We found it and we were fighting it on a rooftop, but you got knocked off the roof. That's how you hit your head."

"Did we kill it?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled. "Yeah. You killed it, Dean, as you were falling off the roof."

"Good."

"Try to eat a little."

Dean pulled himself up and managed to eat about half of the sausage biscuit Sam had brought him. He took a drink of the coffee and made a face. "Is this black?"

"Yeah. You always take your coffee black. It's how you like it."

"Oh, okay." Dean took another drink and swallowed the aspirin Sam handed him.

"Try to get some rest," Sam said.

"You said we were leaving today."

"Not until you feel better."

"I'm okay," Dean said. "We can go now."

Sam smiled, seeing a glimmer of his brother shine through for a second. "No, it's okay. We can wait another day. I haven't really found anything for us to hunt yet, anyway. I'll do some research while you rest."

Dean slid back in the bed and closed his eyes while Sam went to his laptop. When Sam looked up a few minutes later, Dean's mouth was open and he was breathing rhythmically.

Two hours later, Sam was reading an article from a Colorado newspaper that had a definite supernatural feel to it. It mentioned a group of hikers who had gone missing. Cops had searched the area, but found nothing. Sam ran through possible culprits in his head: a Wendigo, an Ogre, maybe a goblin. Any of those would be a difficult foe. Wendigos and Ogres were both stronger and faster than humans. Goblins could be sneaky, luring humans into traps. Dean just wasn't ready to face these.

"Did you find something?" Dean asked, startling Sam.

Sam looked up, surprised he hadn't noticed that Dean was awake and sitting up in the bed. "Not really."

Dean frowned. "You're lying, aren't you?"

"Why would you say that?"

"I'm not sure. It's just a feeling. Am I right?"

Sam sighed. "Okay, I've found a few things, but most of them are really dangerous and I'm just not sure that-"

"-I can handle it right now?" Dean finished.

"I was gonna say I'm not sure that it's a good idea that we go after them yet."

"Same idea," Dean said, standing. He came over beside the table. "I know that I don't remember, but I'm guessing our lives were never really safe."

"No."

"But we do this job anyway."

"Yeah."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because we save people."

"Did people suddenly stop needing saving?" Dean asked.

"No."

Dean shrugged. "Then we still have a job to do."

"But Dean, you don't remember how to do it. You can't hunt without remembering how. It's too dangerous. You could get hurt."

"So, show me," Dean said.

Sam laughed incredulously and leaned back. "Dean, it took Dad years to train us. I was eight before he let me come on a hunt with him. I can't teach you eight years of skills in a few days."

Dean shook his head. "Those memories have to be in here somewhere. Maybe you can just trigger them somehow."

Sam sighed, staring at Dean. "Okay. We can try it."

"What's in here, again?" Dean asked, staring at the pistol in his hands.

"Iron rounds. Pure iron repels spirits. You can also use them on some other supernatural things, like shtrigas."

"What's that?"

"It's like a kind of witch."

Dean nodded, extending his arms and aiming the gun. The two of them had found a wooded area off the road to use for training. It was far enough from town that no one would hear the shots and it was far enough from the road that no one would see anything.

Dean fired at the cans Sam had set up and instead hit the tree far to the side. Dean let the gun drop and sighed in frustration. After several shots, his aim hadn't improved, even after Sam had demonstrated the proper technique and helped him position the gun correctly.

"It's okay," Sam said. "You'll get it eventually."

"Did I used to be good at this?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. You had great aim," Sam said.

"Then why can't I do this?" Dean said

"Just give it time. I'm sure it will come back to you."

"This sucks. I feel like a little kid."

"Just be patient. The doctor said your memories will come back in time."

"Might. He said they might come back and that's easy for you to say. You don't know how it feels to walk around with no memory of who you are. My whole life is a blank. Except for the two days I've spent with you outside of the hospital, I don't even know you."

"You think this is easy for me?" Sam asked, feeling his temper slip away from him. "Watching my brother struggle to do things that a week ago he could do in his sleep. Watching you look at me like I'm a stranger. I lost something too, you know."

Dean shook his head. "I know. I just… feel lost. Like I don't know what to do next. I can see you watching my reactions and I know I'm doing it wrong. I just wish I knew what the right way was."

"Dean, it's okay. I'm not upset with you. I'm just glad you're alive. When I saw you fall off that roof, I thought…"

Dean nodded, staring at the ground instead of Sam. "Maybe things would have been better if I had died."

"Don't you say that," Sam snapped. "You're all I've got left. I lost my mom, my dad and my girlfriend. I can't lose you too."

"You already have."

"No! No, don't talk like that. You're alive. I don't care if you're the same Dean I remember or not. All I care about is the fact that my brother is still here with me. Even if you never get your memories back."

"Maybe we should try something besides weapons training," Dean said, handing Sam the gun.

"Okay. How about hand to hand combat?"

"Okay."

"Try to pin me to the ground," Sam instructed, dropping into a lower stance for more leverage.

Dean's movements were slower and less fluid, allowing Sam to predict his actions and avoid them. Sam didn't even attempt to pin Dean, knowing he could do so easily at this point. Sam simply deflected Dean's attacks.

Twenty minutes later, Dean was sweating and no closer to pinning Sam. It seemed that along with Dean's memories of his family and past hunts, he had also lost his knowledge of fighting techniques.

Sam tried to offer helpful advice, but after dodging another of Dean's grabs, Dean straightened. "Dammit! I'm never gonna get this."

"Sure you will. It just takes practice. I was bad at this when I first learned too. You had to show me what I was doing wrong a million times. Come on. Let's quit for today. We'll practice more tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Dean agreed, helping Sam pack up the weapons and supplies. When their things were loaded in the duffel bags, they began the trek back to the parked car. The walk was a quiet one and Sam could tell that Dean was disappointed in his lacking abilities. Dean had always been so good at everything. As a child, Sam used to watch Dean and wish that he could one day be as good as his big brother.

When they reached the car, they drove back to the motel for another night. Sam forced his brother to eat at least part of a hamburger before going to sleep for the night.

The next day, they returned to their previous spot to practice more. This time, they began with wrestling and Sam started by giving Dean advice on tackling someone. "Try not to give away your moves and don't commit yourself to a move. Always be ready to change tactics in case your first choice doesn't work." Dean nodded trying to take it all in.

But when they actually started, Dean seemed to struggle in putting the advice into practice. And when Dean did attack, Sam flipped him to his back. It was only when Dean didn't get up that Sam got worried. Sam knelt by Dean. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean's face showed pain.

Sam shook his head, berating himself for not being more careful. Dean was new at this. He should have been easier on him.

"You didn't do this, Sam. I already had a headache when we came out here," Dean said, reading Sam's expression.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam demanded.

"I thought I could ignore it."

"Let's go back to the motel. You can lay down."

Dean stood and helped Sam gather the materials. But on the walk back to the car, Dean stumbled, falling to the grass. Sam bent to help him up just as Dean began throwing up. When he finished, Sam pulled him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Dean said, nodding and instantly regretting the head movement.

When they reached the motel, Sam dropped the supplies at the door and led Dean to his bed.

The headaches seemed to become part of the routine. Dean suffered from a headache that typically grew worse as the day progressed. He began to end most evenings by vomiting whatever he had eaten that day. Dean didn't have much weight he could afford to lose and Sam worried as he watched Dean vomit his daily calories day after day. On top of that, Dean seemed to tire more quickly from any physical activity. Unfortunately, remaining asleep seemed difficult and after only a few hours, Dean would awaken, unable to return to sleep.

Sam considered taking Dean back to the hospital, but at the mention of the hospital, Dean insisted that he would be fine. During the day, Sam tried to keep Dean hydrated, forcing him to drink as much water as he could tolerate.

Unfortunately, Dean's headaches and fatigue weren't their only problems. After a week in the motel, their credit card was rapidly reaching its limit. So, Sam decided they had no choice but to move on. Sam packed up their things and loaded the Impala while Dean was still resting. Dean woke up just as Sam reentered the room.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

"We have to go, Dean. How is your head today?"

"I'm okay," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"Are we out of money?" Dean asked after several minutes of silence.

Sam frowned and glanced over at Dean. "How did you know?"

Dean shrugged. "It's the only reason I can think for you moving us now."

Sam sighed. "We still have options. Don't worry. We'll be okay."

"More fake credit cards?" Dean asked.

"That's one option." Of course, that plan only worked when they remained on the move and Sam wasn't sure how well Dean would handle car rides with his nearly constant headaches.

"What else did we do for money?"

"Sometimes we got jobs," Sam said, failing to mention just how rare that was or the fact that Dean usually hated that option. It was too long term and just not efficient enough for hunting.

"Then we can do that again. Right?" Dean asked.

"I'll look for a job in the next town."

"I can get a job too."

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "You're not well."

"I know I can't remember things, but it doesn't take a genius to ask, 'Do you want fries with that?'" Dean said.

"I meant your headaches."

"I know what you meant, Sammy," Dean said, turning back to stare out the window.

"What did you call me?" Sam asked, turning to look at his brother.

Dean turned back, frowning. "I called you by name."

"No, no you called me Sammy. Why did you call me that?"

Dean shook his head. "I…I don't know. It just came out."

Sam pulled the car to the side of the road. "Do you know what this means? It means that maybe you're starting to remember. You used to call me Sammy all the time, even though it drives me crazy. Or maybe because it drives me crazy. But this means that you remembered. If you can remember that, you can remember other things."

"It was just a name, a common nickname for Sam. It might not mean anything," Dean said.

"But it might mean you're starting to remember."

Dean nodded. "I hope so."

After looking for work in three towns, Sam finally found a place so desperate for workers they hired him on the spot, without the usual required references. It wasn't an ideal job, but it was work and it was money and they agreed to let Sam start that day. There was no motel for Dean to go to, so he came in with Sam.

"This is your new job?" Dean asked, staring around at the dozens of screaming children.

"They needed more servers. High turnover rate," Sam explained. "Not a lot of people want to work at a restaurant for kids."

"Gee, I can't imagine why," Dean said.

Sam smiled. "At least it will help pay for a place to stay."

"What about new credit cards?"

Sam sighed. "I've been thinking that maybe we should take a break on the hunting for a while."

"Because of me."

"I don't want to see you get hurt."

Dean shook his head, his tightened jaw a signal to Sam that he was angry with this

choice. "We have a job to do."

"Dean, you can't do it right now. You can't remember how to fight or fire a weapon. If you go out there like this, your chance of getting hurt is not only possible, it's likely."

"And if we don't go out there, other people will get hurt. Right?"

Sam straightened, drawing himself up to his full height, a good three inches above his brother. "Better them than you."

"This isn't right. And you know it."

Sam sighed. "I'm not suggesting we stop hunting forever, just until you get your memories back."

"That may never happen."

"Then, I guess we'll have to start living normal lives for once."

Dean wasn't happy. That much was obvious from the way he glared at Sam throughout his shift. But Sam wasn't about to change his mind. Hunting was dangerous on a good day. And now, Dean was no better equipped to hunt the supernatural than any average person on the street.

Sam simply tried to ignore Dean while he followed the waitress training him. "This is a simple gig, Sam. Don't worry. You'll have it down in a couple of days. I've only been here a month and I feel like I could do it in my sleep."

Sam nodded and watched while Elizabeth taught him how to write down the orders, how to work the scanners and what the various amounts were for the prizes available for the children. "So, that's your big brother, huh?" Elizabeth asked, while the two of them cleaned up a table from a large group.

"Yeah. Sort of."

Elizabeth smiled. "Sort of? How is he sort of your brother?"

"He hit his head and now he doesn't remember me."

Elizabeth gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. Is he gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I mean except for the amnesia."

"And you guys just got into town today?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have friends here?"

"No. We just needed work."

"Do you…have a place to stay?" Elizabeth asked, averting her eyes.

"You mean besides our car? No."

"You could always stay with me."

Sam stopped wiping down the table and looked up. "You don't even know us. We could be psychos or something."

Elizabeth grinned. "Somehow, I don't think so. Anyone who takes a job like this to take care of his brother isn't a psycho. I have an extra room. I'm not trying to hit on you, Sam, if that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't worried," Sam said, smiling.

"Honestly, you'd kind of be doing me a favor. See, I used to have a roommate, but now it's just me and it's really quiet and it would be nice to have other people."

Sam nodded. "We'd really appreciate it. Thanks a lot, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled. "No problem."

"So she just offered us her apartment?" Dean asked, as they followed Elizabeth's car.

"She said she was lonely."

Dean grinned. "Sammy, you dog."

"Not like that!" Sam said, smacking Dean on the shoulder. "She's got an extra room."

"One bed?"

"I assume."

"I am not sharing a bed with you," Dean said. He frowned, "We never used to share a bed, did we?"

Sam laughed. "Uh, no, not since I was like five."

Dean nodded.

Sam turned the Impala into a parking lot beside an apartment complex and parked beside Elizabeth. Sam quickly tossed some clothes into a duffle bag and the brothers followed Elizabeth up the stairs to the third floor.

Elizabeth opened up her door and held it open for the boys to walk in behind her. She flipped on the lights. "Here we are. Home, sweet home."

"Wow," both boys said, staring around.

The apartment was spacious and nicely furnished. "How much do they pay you at that restaurant?" Dean asked.

Sam hit Dean's shoulder and glared at him for voicing such a question, but Elizabeth only smiled. "Not enough to pay for a closet in this building. But I have a father who is in real estate and he insisted on getting me a nice apartment. You know, it would look bad for his daughter to live in a shack while he sells mansions. The bathroom is the door in the middle of that hall. My room is on the left. You guys can have the right room."

"We really appreciate this, Elizabeth," Sam said.

"You mentioned that, Sam, but it's you two who are doing me a favor. Just make yourselves at home."

"Is this your boyfriend?" Dean asked, pointing to a picture of a boy in his young twenties on the mantle.

Elizabeth frowned. "Um, no, actually that's my brother, Everett. He used to share this apartment with me. We were twins."

"Did he move?" Sam asked.

Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath. "He died."

"I'm so sorry," Sam said.

Elizabeth shook her head. "It was two months ago. He was on his way home from work, when I called him and told him we were out of bread. I asked if he could pick some up. He went to the convenience store a block away and walked in on a robbery. They shot him in the head. He was dead before the ambulance ever got there."

Sam hugged Elizabeth, who was now sobbing. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I just can't help feeling like it's my fault. I asked him to stop. If I had just waited until morning to get more bread, none of this would have happened."

"Elizabeth, you listen to me. This isn't your fault. Do you understand?"

Sam turned to look at his brother, who sounded so much like his old self. That soft, yet firm tone. The same tone he used with victims of supernatural attacks. The tone that commanded them to listen and soothed their pain away. It was a gift Dean had had for as long as Sam could remember.

Elizabeth was staring at Dean too. She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to go all emotional on you. You guys just needed a room."

"It's okay," Dean said.

"Um, let me just go and get some clean sheets for your bed." And Elizabeth left the room quickly.

"Dean?" Sam asked, staring at his brother.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Are you…you?"

"Who else would I be?" Dean asked.

"I mean, are you back to your old self again?"

"I don't have any of my memories back."

"Then, how did you… do that?"

"Do what?"

"That thing you always do with victims to make them feel better. How did you know what to do?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Just seemed like the right thing to say, I guess."

Sam smiled. "I think you're getting your memories back without realizing it."

"I think that's something I'd notice."

"First you called me Sammy. Now you're acting like your old self. I mean maybe it's all connected."

Dean sighed. "Maybe."

"Um, I've got your sheets, guys," Elizabeth said, re-entering the room.

"Thanks, Liz."

Elizabeth smiled. "That's what my brother used to call me."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"No, no, it's okay. I like hearing it again. Um, I'm supposed to open tomorrow, so I'm gonna go to bed. But feel free to stay up. There's food in the fridge and the TV gets cable. So, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," Sam and Dean said.

"Good night," Elizabeth said, disappearing down the hall.

"She's nice, Sammy. You've got good taste."

"She's not my girlfriend, Dean."

"No, but she wants to be."

"Why? Because she's being nice to us. You know people can be nice without sex being involved."

"Girls don't just open up their apartments to complete strangers for no reason. I see the way she looks at you, Sammy. She's interested. Trust me."

Sam shook his head. "You sound just like you used to."

"Good. I guess I'm learning to fake it better. Now go to bed. You have to work tomorrow, too, Sam."

"Why don't you take the bed? I'll sleep on the couch," Sam said.

"Because you're the one working and you need your sleep. I'll be fine out here. Now, go."

"Dean-"

"Go, Sam. This is not a discussion."

"Okay. I guess you can always sleep tomorrow while we're at work, if you need to."

When Sam left for work, Dean was sleeping on the couch. He left as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing his brother. Sam was at work for the noon to close shift. Elizabeth's shift overlapped with his and before leaving, she handed him a key. "Now, you can let yourself in."

"Thanks. Dean and me, we'll try not to stay too long."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. I enjoy the company."

Sam finished his shift and went home after cleaning the restaurant. When he arrived back at Elizabeth's apartment, he let himself in and found her making dinner. "Hey, how was work?" Elizabeth asked, as he took off his coat.

"It was okay. Where's Dean?"

"I don't know. He wasn't here when I got here."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I assumed he went for a walk or to run an errand."

"We have to find him," Sam said, grabbing his coat again.

"He's an adult, Sam. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But he doesn't remember anything."

"He functions like any other adult. You can't keep him on a leash."

"He's my responsibility."

Sam opened the door, revealing Dean on the other side. "What are you, psychic?" Dean asked, hand paused in mid-air.

Sam decided that now was not the best time to tell Dean that yes, he was psychic and often saw glimpses of the future that involved deaths. Instead, Sam went into protective mode. "Where were you?"

"I went for a walk. I needed to get out."

"You should have left a note or something."

"I didn't know how long I'd be gone. I'm not four, Sammy. I can go out by myself. I crossed the streets and everything."

"I was worried."

"I'm fine. See?" Dean said, holding his arms out.

Sam pulled him into the apartment and shut the door. "Just tell me where you're going in the future."

"Yes, Mom," Dean said.

"Supper's ready. Hey, Dean, can you help me set the table, please?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sure," Dean said, moving around a still-steaming Sam. Elizabeth showed Dean where the plates, cups, napkins and silverware were and Dean began setting them out. He stuck all of the silverware on one side of the plate and looked up. "Hey, Sam, did I ever know how to set the table?"

Sam sighed, trying to get rid of his remaining anger at Dean for worrying him so much. "No. We never really set the table."

"Good," Dean said, "then, that's one memory I didn't lose."

Elizabeth smiled. "It doesn't really matter where you put the silverware, Dean. I'm not that into fancy things, either. And I hope you two aren't used to really good food either, because most of my meals come straight out of a can or the microwave."

"It's fine, Elizabeth. We usually just eat fast food. This looks great," Sam said.

"Well, then, Sam, have a seat and we'll eat together."

Sam obeyed and the three of them ate dinner together.

When the three of them finished, they carried their plates to the sink. "Can I do the dishes for you?" Sam offered.

"It's no problem, Sam," Elizabeth said.

"Dean and me, we're staying here for no cost. We have to do something to help out."

"I told you, Sam. I like the company. I hated coming home to an empty apartment after Rett died. He and I used to have so much fun together. We were really close and not having him around…" Elizabeth paused and blinked back tears. "I'm just really glad there's someone to talk to now. Dean, are you okay?"

Dean looked up, blinking. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've got a headache."

"Bad?" Sam asked, coming over beside him.

Dean squinted. "Yeah."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed," Sam said, wrapping an arm around his brother.

Dean started towards the couch, but Sam pulled him on. "You're taking the bed."

"You're the one who has to work."

"And you're the one who's sick. Besides I won't sleep well if I know you're on the couch."

Dean sighed. "Okay."

Sam put Dean in bed and turned off the lights in the room. "What can I do to help?" Elizabeth whispered so as not to disturb Dean.

"Do you have any painkillers?"

"Um, some ibuprofen."

"Get them and a wet washcloth."

Elizabeth nodded and hurried away. Sam sat down beside his brother. "It's gonna be okay, Dean. I'm gonna take care of you. I promise."

Elizabeth returned with the requested items and Sam placed the washcloth on Dean's head before handing him the ibuprofen. Dean swallowed them dry in one gulp. Elizabeth pulled a chair up to the bed and sat.

"Liz, you don't have to stay here with us. You have to work early tomorrow, don't you?"

"It's not a problem, Sam. I'm worried about him too."

"Will you two kiss already?" Dean moaned.

Elizabeth laughed. "He's funny, even with a migraine."

"You should have met him before the amnesia," Sam said.

"Well, maybe I'll get the chance to meet him after the amnesia wears off."

"I hope so," Sam said.

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Author's note: I really didn't plan for Elizabeth to have such a huge role in this fanfic, but once she started talking, I really liked her. Please, review and let me know what you think. Also, a big thank you to for providing medical information to those of us with absolutely no medical knowledge.