A/N: lilou42, that...is an excellent point. I'm glad I didn't think of it before I wrote this. Ahahaha! XD

Of course, at that moment in the episode, we weren't aware they were already in that reality. So I suppose that's why it still sticks out in my mind as being so odd...

I've got a solution for this, actually :)

Anyway...without further ado...

********************...

Dean gripped the steering wheel, hard, as he jerked the Impala to the side of the road and came to a screeching, crunching stop in the gravel. "Sammy!" he threw the car into park and realized he couldn't do much to help his brother from where he sat. He was out the door and around to the passenger side in just seconds.

He opened the door and reached around Sam's shaking body to unbuckle his seat belt, then carefully pulled him out, intending to gently lay him down onto the ground. But a particularly violent spasm sent the both of them down; Dean landing on his ass in the gravel, clutching his younger brother's upper body, protectively, against his chest, until he collected his bearings.

Sam only shook for a few more moments, before his body went still. Dean pulled his own legs in, so he was sitting Indian-style, before allowing Sam's limp body settle onto it's back. He held the back of Sam's head in his hand so it wouldn't fall back, and with his other hand he brushed the brown locks away from where they'd fallen into Sam's face.

"Sam?" his voice cracked, and he didn't care. Sam looked like he was just sleeping. Just like he looked the last time something like this happened... "Please let him wake up, like last time..." Dean thought. "Sammy, c'mon," he gently shook him by the shoulder. "God...what if this is exactly what it looks like? What if Sam scratched the wall again? I don't get it... What the hell does rock, paper, scissors have to do with freakin' Hell?"

It seemed like hours, sitting there with Death's and Castiel's words running through his head, while Sam remained unconscious. Thoughts of wondering whether or not Sam would even wake up; if he'd become the drooling mess that they'd known was a possibility, if the wall ever came down. The fact that it was over something this trivial...pulled at Dean's heart in a way he couldn't even comprehend. He was supposed to protect Sam. He thought keeping him away from the places Robo-Sam had been, would keep him from scratching that wall, and here he'd basically ignited the damn thing by telling Sam to try and remember a stupid game they've always played...

Dean found himself going over what he'd do if Sam didn't make it through this. Those ponderings were morbid, of course. Not just for Sam... Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if Death would be able to make another damn support wall...

Sam's deep intake of breath pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at the younger brother's face, as he became aware of his surroundings. "Sammy, you with me?" he cupped the side of Sam's neck.

Sam met his eyes, and for a frightening few moments, he didn't respond. Dean's heart began to sink in his chest. But then Sam blinked a few times, "Why did that happen?" he asked in a child-like voice.

"Not sure," Dean replied, concern written clearly on his face. "Was it the same as last time?" he asked in a smaller voice.

Sam nodded, swallowing, before he said, "Sort of...but different, still..."

Dean didn't want to question that further. He was pretty sure he knew what he was saying. "You feel okay? Can you get up?"

Sam nodded again, and moved to get up with Dean's assistance. He glanced around, realizing they were on the side of the road. Dean guided him back to the car, without resistance, and closed the door. Sam buckled as Dean walked around and got in on his side.

"Mind if we skip stopping for beer?" Sam asked. "I'm really tired."

"Yeah, sure, Sam. I'll order us somethin' when we get to the room."

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Sam had passed out mere minutes after falling into his bed at the motel. Dean had ordered a pizza, waited just over half an hour for it to get there, and tried to make enough noise to wake Sam up to eat. But Sam kept right on sleeping.

After getting through half of the pizza, he closed up the box and stuffed it into the fridge in the kitchenette. It was back to being silent.

Dean hated the silence.

He picked up his phone and called Bobby. After explaining what'd happened, Bobby didn't really have any answers. But, then again, Dean hadn't really expected him to. He just needed to talk to someone about it, and talking to Sam seemed almost dangerous, now.

After hanging up with Bobby, Dean was back to silence. He sighed and ran a hand down his face, before picking up the TV remote and clicking 'power'. After about ten minutes of endless channel-surfing, he concluded that daytime TV still sucked. Not even Dr. Sexy was on, at this time of day. He wasn't really in the mood for Busty Asian Beauties 3.

He tossed the remote in the middle of the bed, and it bounced, almost comedic in fashion, right off the foot of the mattress and crashed to the floor. Dean grimaced and glanced over at Sam, who didn't so much as flinch.

Truth be told, he kinda wished Sam would wake up.

He sighed again. He wanted answers. It didn't make sense that Sam would get yet another face full of Hell, when they hadn't been wandering into red-flag territory. Things just weren't adding up. So, he did the only other thing he could think of. It was a long-shot, but he had to try.

"Castiel," he said aloud, "I know you're kinda busy up there, but if you get a minute, I need your input, here. It's about Sam. Something's wrong..."

Tbc...

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