A/N: Okay so I had been splitting my time between this story and "What Might Have Been" but now that it's done I can devote all of my creative juices to this. Thank you for the reviews and I'll try to update more often. I'm not sure where this is going yet, but I'm working on it. Enjoy!

CHAPT.3

3:00am

Sam blinked awake and tired to remember what had woke him. Whimpering, scratching, snuffling…the dog. What the hell was Obadiah doing away from Dean?

Throwing back the covers, Sam padded over to his door and threw it open. Obadiah sat back from where he was sticking his nose under the door and looked up at him expectantly.

"What? You gotta piss?"

Obadiah grunted.

"Go tell Dean to let you out."

The dog grunted again and turned back across the hallway to go back to Dean's room. Sam groaned painfully. "Stop!" he whispered harshly. "Don't wake him up. I'll let you out."

Obadiah ignored him and slipped back through the cracked door. Sam went after him to call him back but didn't want to wake Dean.

Hoping he could get the dog out without it pissing on something or having Dean throw something at him, he quietly opened the door the rest of the way and peered in.

Dean was sprawled out on the bed on a pair of boxers and a shirt with an arm flung over his eyes. Obadiah had climbed back on the bed between Dean and the wall. He had his front paws and upper body resting on Dean's stomach like he was comforting or protecting and was watching Dean with his droopy eyes and the young man cam closer.

Sam was about to whisper for the dog but stopped when he saw the pain on his brother's face when he moved his arm to scratch Obadiah's head.

"Dean?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?"

His brother shook his head without opening his eyes.

Sam patted his leg. "Come on Obadiah."

The basset hound heaved itself up and moved around Dean slowly, gently, and jumped on the floor next to Sam who rubbed his side. "Good boy."

Obadiah laid down at the foot of Dean's bed to keep watch and Sam lowered himself down on the mattress next to his brother. He ran a critical eye over him and stopped at his knee. It was swollen to the size of a baseball.

Trying not to jostle him too much, Sam raised Dean's leg and stuffed a pillow under it. Dean yelped in pain and glared at him, but Sam was to guilt ridden to meet his eyes and tortured himself by keeping his eyes transfixed on the knee.

He reached out and traced the scar running from kneecap to ankle. A similar one ran the length of his spine. He finally glanced up at Dean. There was no pain, no anger, no bitterness, no love in his eyes. Just emptiness.

"It'll pass," he said in a voice as empty as his eyes. "It always does. I was just on my feet all day. Go to sleep."

"I could heat---"

"Nothing helps, Sam."

Silence fell between them and it wasn't and easy like the silences they once shared. Sam nervously began massaging Dean's knee. "You're getting around really well."

"I bet it was a surprise compared to the last time you saw me."

Dean hadn't said it to spite him, but Sam swallowed. Snatches of a hazy five months cam rushing back to him.

Severe concussion, internal bleeding, infection from broken leg, broken back, may never walk again…

Shaking away the memories, he stood. "There's nothing I can get you? You don't want me to sit with you?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm gonna go catch a few Z's then. Call me if you need anything." Sam walked to the door but stopped and turned around. "Dean? I'm glad you're walking."

It may have been a very simple statement, but it cam from the bottom of his heart and he meant every word of it.