"Uncle Bobby? What's taking so long?" Dean asked after the two of them had been sitting in the ER waiting room for almost an hour. "Why can't we go in with Sammy?"

Bobby pressed the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Soon, Deano. Soon. They'll let us know when we can go back."

Dean nodded, then a couple minutes later, asked, "Did you call Dad? Dad needs to be here."

Bobby silently called John Winchester a few choice names, but held back in front of Dean. "I know, buddy. I've tried several times. You know if your dad's...busy...he's not near a phone. I'll keep trying."

Finally, a nurse stepped into the small waiting area, and asked, in a soft voice, "Singer? Family of Sam Singer?"

Bobby stood. "That's us. How's Sammy?"

Dean looked up into the nurse's face, worry making his freckles stand out against his pale skin. "Can we go back there? Please? I need to see my brother. Is he gonna be okay?"

The nurse, a pretty, middle-aged woman whose name tag said "Yvonne," gave Dean a tender look. "Are you Dean?" When Dean nodded, she said, "He's been asking for you, along with someone named... Bea, I think he said. Is that your Mama, honey?"

Dean shook his head. "No, ma'am, Bee's our cat, Bumblebee. Can-can we please see him?"

Yvonne sadly shook her head. "Dr. Cooper is with your brother right now, and she'll come out and speak with you and...?" She looked at Bobby.

"I'm the boy's uncle," Bobby responded to her questioning gaze.

"Well, Dr. Cooper will be out as soon as she can to speak to you both." Yvonne gave them a sympathetic look. "So if you could just sit over there and wait, she'll be out soon."

Dean sighed loudly in his frustration, so it was Bobby who nodded to the nurse before grasping Dean's shoulder to lead the boy back to the seats.

Just as the nurse promised, less than fifteen minutes later a striking woman in a white lab coat over teal blue scrubs, hair a lovely shade of silvery gray, stepped into the waiting room. She gave them a soft smile as she held out her hand to Bobby. "Mr. Singer? I'm Dr. Cooper. Amelia Cooper. I'm Sam's doctor." She gestured to the nearby chairs. "Let's have a seat, shall we?"

Once they were seated, the doctor smiled at Dean. "You're Sam's brother, I hear?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I want to see Sammy."

Amelia nodded. "I know, son, and I promise I'll let you peek in at him, but let me tell you about what's going on with Sam first, ok?"

Dean nodded, and without even realizing he was doing so, slipped his small hand into Bobby's weathered one. Bobby gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

The words I'm here for you, son, hung in the air, unspoken.

"Well, we still have to perform a number of tests, but from what I've seen with Sam, I suspect he's got a case of Meningitis going on." At Bobby's gasp, Amelia continued, "Before you freak out," she reassured them, "There are two kinds of Meningitis. The first, the bacterial kind, is the more serious of the two. The second is viral, the kind I suspect Sam has, and it's much less serious, but it does require a day or two of testing to determine, and unfortunately, it's also the kind that there is little treatment for. Sam will basically have to tough it out, but we will certainly do what we can to help relieve his symptoms."

Dean, to both Bobby and the doctor's surprise, appeared to understand. "Is what he has catching? Can I see him without getting sick myself?" Not that it mattered to him in the least. He didn't care. He just wanted to be with his brother, and right now.

Dr. Cooper shook her head. "No, son, he's not infectious, but he is still pretty sick, and he needs his rest. Hospital rules don't allow visitors under 16 years of age."

Before Dean had the chance to display the famous Winchester temper, Bobby put a calming hand on his shoulder and shook his head at the boy. "Doc, I know rules are rules, but trust me when I tell you that you don't want to see what'll happen if you refuse to allow this boy in to see his brother. Trust me also when I promise you I won't lift a finger to stop it."

Dr. Cooper had seen her share of worried family members, and she could tell from the determined look in Dean's eyes that he would make good on Bobby's words if he weren't allowed to see Sam.

"Well, your brother hasn't been transferred to a room, yet. Until that occurs, I don't see why you both can't sit with him." She fixed Dean with a firm look. "But you must be as quiet as you can, and not upset your brother. Are we clear?"

Dean nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am." He stood up, but refrained from charging into the emergency room cubicle, instead waiting, somewhat patiently, for Bobby.

When Dean walked through the curtain and saw his baby brother lying on the bed, he crept toward the side of the bed and took Sam's hand. "Hey, Sammy. I'm here. Everything's gonna be fine. I promised you that, didn't I? I always take care of you, right? That's my job. Me 'n Uncle Bobby are gonna make sure of it."

Bobby stood at the doorway and listened in as Dean kept up a soft monologue to his brother. Dr. Cooper stood behind him, and caught what Dean was saying as well. In a near whisper, she asked, "The boys are close, I take it?"

Bobby nodded. "Yep. They're the best of friends, and Dean's...Dean's protective. I guarantee you that if you want Sammy over there to cooperate with you, you're not gonna limit his access to his brother, and vice versa."

Amelia grasped his arm and gestured for him to step outside with her. "Mr. Singer-"

"Bobby."

She smiled. "Bobby. I will certainly do what I can, but I can't promise you that Dean will be allowed to stay the whole time. A few hours a day is the best I can do. I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. I can only bend them slightly."

Bobby nodded. If that were the best he could hope for, he'd take it. He knew the Dr. could get in some serious trouble bending the rules as she was, and he appreciated it. "Thanks, for caring - for both of them, I mean. I have a friend who can stay with Dean when he has to leave. If it's okay, I'll sit with Sam until visiting hours are over." Bobby gave a wry smirk. "Need to see my ID?"

The doctor laughed, a sweet, rather girlish sound. "Oh, I'm pretty sure you're over 16."

Bobby felt his cheeks warm. Even though it had been a while since a woman had flirted with him, he thought he could remember how it went. "A year or two at least."

Amelia patted his shoulder. "Go sit with the boys and as soon as Dean's time is up, a nurse will let you know."

Bobby nodded. "Thanks, Doc. 'Preciate it."

Before he stepped back into the room with Sam and Dean, Bobby slipped back out into the waiting room and over to one of the courtesy phones. From memory, he dialed and at the answering response, said, "Hey, darlin', it's me…"

A couple hours later, a young nurse poked her head through the curtain closing off the small room. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over for Dean. Dr. Cooper asked me to let you know."

Dean wanted to complain, but the brief shake of head from Bobby silenced him. "When can I come back? Sammy'll miss me."

The nurse entered the rest of the way, and kneeling down in front of him, took his hands. "Give your brother a chance to rest through the night. We're going to get him settled into his own room shortly. When you come back in the morning – bright and early if you want – you can see Sam then, ok?" She squeezed his hands reassuringly. "I promise."

Dean nodded. "Can I call and tell Sam good night later?"

The nurse smiled and ran a caressing hand over his hair. "Absolutely."

Just then, the curtain parted again, and a lovely brunette stepped through. Her eyes immediately fell on Bobby, and she gave him a soft smile. "Hey, hon."

Bobby stepped over to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Hey, yourself."

Dean stared up at her. "Who're you?"

"Dean—" Bobby chastised, but was waved off.

"That's ok, sweetie. He doesn't know me." As the young nurse slipped out of the room, the brunette slid into a chair at the side of the room. "Hi, Dean. I'm Ellen, Bobby's friend…."

"I don't wanna go. Sammy needs me," Dean insisted as he reluctantly exited the hospital building at Ellen's side. "I don't know you. Why do I have to stay with you?"

"Do you trust your Uncle Bobby?" Ellen asked as she led the boy to her truck. She unlocked the door and opened it, then stood and looked down into Dean's mutinous face.

Without a thought, Dean nodded. "'Course I do."

"Ok. Well, he trusts me. We're close friends, Bobby and I. Can you trust me too?" She gestured to the vehicle, inviting him to settle himself inside.

Dean didn't budge. "He never told me about you."

Ellen sighed. "Ok. You have me there, but I'm sure he would have soon. Bobby and I—"

Again, with a lack of tact his youth and impatience saw no need for, Dean asked, "Are you and Uncle Bobby fu—"

"Inside. Now." Ellen, the mother of a 7-year-old daughter, used that Mom voice that clearly told Dean the conversation was over.

He stepped up inside the truck and settled in, but it was clear he wasn't happy about it.

"Buckle up."

Dean did so but not before sending Ellen a clear, You're not my mom and you can't tell me what to do, look. When all he got in return was a steady glare, he shrugged and muttered, "Whatever," before crossing his arms over his chest and pushing out his full lower lip into a classic pout.

The drive back to Bobby's was made in silence.

Ellen gave up trying to engage the boy in the seat next to her in conversation. She wasn't sure if it was because he was tired, or simply didn't trust her yet, but Dean didn't say more than ten words the whole trip back to Bobby's salvage yard.

When they pulled up close to the house, Dean jumped out and didn't wait for Ellen as he ran up and let himself in with a key Bobby'd given him. Ellen walked up to the house, giving George a fond scritch as she checked to make sure he had food and water. When she got inside, Ellen found Dean sitting on the living room floor, cuddling a black ball of fluff to his chest.

"Who's that?" she asked as she walked into the room and shrugged off her jacket, laying it the back of the divan.

Seeing the soft curve of a smile on the boy's face, Ellen realized that the kitten might very well be the means by which she could get through to Dean. She crossed the room and knelt beside him where he cuddled the cat to his face. Reaching out, she fingered the kitten between the ears, and smiled a bit herself when the feline released a loud rumbly purr.

Dean looked up at her. "He likes you."

Sitting the rest of the way onto the floor, crossing her legs Indian-style, Ellen petted the kitten. "He's pretty awesome, Dean. My daughter, Jo, has been asking for a pet. Maybe I'll get her one, if they're anything like this little one."

It took a couple minutes, and then Dean asked, trying to act nonchalant, "How old is she?"

"My Jo?"

Dean nodded.

"She's seven, so what? A couple years younger than you?" Ellen smiled at the boy, and not able to resist, reached out a hand to caress his hair. When he didn't jerk away, but instead leaned into her hand a moment, she gave it another gentle swipe before pulling her hand back.

Dean nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm nine and Sam's..." The words jammed up in his throat, and he bowed his head again, so Ellen couldn't see the sadness, the fear in those green eyes. "Sam's five. He-he named Bumblebee, and - and I teased him about it." His voice dropped to a whisper even as he stroked the soft black fur, ran his finger over the yellow patch. "I wish I hadn't done that now... I w-wish..."

Ellen understood. "He's going to be fine, Dean. I know you're worried. We all are, but he'll be fine. Really."

Dean looked up at her, but as much as he wanted to believe her, he didn't know her. He couldn't trust her like he did Uncle Bobby. Or Dad. "You don't know that. We've never met you before today. You don't know me or Sam so how do you know he'll be fine?"

Ellen sighed. "You trust Bobby, right?"

Dean had to agree that was true, so he nodded his head, his chin rubbing against Bee's furry head.

"Well, Bobby trusts me, so don't you think you could trust me too? Just a little, maybe? Enough to believe me when I say your brother will be fine. Can you do that?"

Dean wanted to. He really, really did. The weight of being the responsible one, the one who had to care for both Sam and himself was crushing him. Would it be so bad to let another person in? Someone he could trust?

Dean looked into Ellen's eyes, and saw nothing there but kindness. He acquiesced with a brief nod of his head.

Ellen reached out and ruffled his short hair fondly. "Well, that's good. Now, let's both get offa this floor and get you something to eat."

"I'm not-" Dean started to protest before his stomach gurgled.

Ellen tossed back her head and laughed. "Sure, kid. I believe you." Getting to her feet, she waited until Dean settled Bee back into his box and rose to his own feet before she crossed the room toward the kitchen. "Whatta you say, Dean?" She peeked into the fridge. "How does a sandwich and juice sound to you?"

Bobby stood in the waiting room at the courtesy phone, trying for the dozenth time to reach John, and without luck. Under his breath, he snarled, "Damn it, John! Where the hell are you? Your boys need you." After yet another dial tone without a pick up on the other end, Bobby slammed the phone down.

Taking a deep breath, he strode back into the ER room where a couple nurses were getting Sam readied to take him to his room on the fourth floor. When Bobby pushed the curtain aside, the nurse at the foot of the cot turned and glanced at him over her shoulder.

"We're ready to take him upstairs, if you'd like to go with us."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that," Bobby nodded then watched as the nurses began rolling Sam's bed out of the room, then followed them as they rolled the boy out of the ER and down the hall toward the elevators.

Bobby looked down at the tiny form resting in the center of the bed, and his heart gave a lurch. Sam was so quiet, so still. Usually the little rugrat was a bundle of energy, zipping all over the place, full of questions and giggles.

What Bobby wouldn't give to hear that bright laughter now.

The ride in the elevator to the room was a quiet one; Sam didn't make a sound until they got to the room and began to transfer him to the bed. Then he began to moan and whimper softly.

Bobby listened from outside the room at Sam's whimpers, and once more, he was irritated - no...pissed off - at John for thinking the hunt was more important than his sons. As he waited to be allowed inside Sam's room, Bobby vowed to read John the riot act once the man returned.

A few minutes later, the younger of the two nurses, a petite redhead whose nametag read 'Betsie,' stepped out of the room. "He's in his bed now, Mr. Singer. You can go in now."

"Thanks," Bobby nodded to her as he stepped into the room and made his way to Sam's bedside. Looking down at the little boy, Bobby was glad to see Sam awake and looking up at him. "Hey, buddy. How're you feeling?" He rested a hand on Sam's arms comfortingly.

"Hot, Uncle Bobby," Sam whined. "Where's Dean? I want Dean."

Bobby sighed - he'd had a feeling that was going to be the first thing Sam said. "Dean couldn't stay here, sport. He wanted to real bad, but the hospital's got rules, and he had to go back to my house." Before Sam could open his mouth to protest, Bobby held up a hand, "But he'll be back tomorrow, I promise. I've got a friend staying with him, and she's taking good care of him, just like the nurses are going to take care of you. Now, you gotta to be a good boy and do what they say, okay? The sooner you do that, the faster you'll get better."

"And then I can go back to your house, Uncle Bobby?" Sam questioned, his eyes still bright with fever. "Does Dean... does he know how to take care of Bumblebee? He likes it when I sing to him before he goes to sleep. I sing to him and I tickle his tummy - can you tell Dean to do that, please?"

"I can do better than that, Sam." Bobby reached for the telephone on the cart beside Sam's bed. "How 'bout we call him?" Getting Sam's nod, Bobby punched in the number, and when it was answered on the other end, said, "Hey. It's me. I've got a little guy here who'd like to speak to his brother. Would you put Dean on, please?"

Sam took the phone, and Bobby could instantly see how weak the boy was. He reached down and helped prop the receiver to Sam's ear.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice soft and weak. "Dean...need you." With that, he began to cry.

"Sam? Sammy, don't cry," Dean's voice came through the phone loud and clear, and so full of pain that even the nurse, who was standing over at the door to give Bobby a little privacy could hear. The woman blinked back a tear as well - she couldn't stand it when kids suffered.

"I wanna come h-home Dean," Sam sniffled, and a part of Bobby's heart burned with - oh who was he kidding it was love. He loved these two kids as if they were his own sons.

"You'll come home, soon, Sam, I promise," Dean said, trying to cheer his brother up. "I'll be there tomorrow to see you and you'll keep gettin' stronger and better an' you'll be back here with me an' 'Bee in no time."

"Dean? Can you please sing 'Bee a song before he goes to sleep? He likes to have a song and he likes it when you tickle his-his tummy..." Sam yawned and his eyes began to droop, and the next yawn almost seemed to suck the strength right out of the child.

When Sam yawned again, Bobby gently took the phone from him and put it to his own ear. "Dean? You still there, bud?"

Dean's voice came through the line, soft and worried. "Uncle Bobby? Is he still cryin'?"

Bobby looked down at Sam and was relieved to see that he child had fallen asleep. "Nah, Dean. He's asleep. The little guy's tuckered out. I'm gonna stick around a while, ok? You stay put with Ellen and I'll be home after while. Take care of Bee for your brother, alright?"

"Ok. I want to see him first thing in the morning, Uncle Bobby. I promised him."

"You bet, kid. I see you in a couple hours." Bobby hung up the phone then turned as he heard the nurse approach. "How early can I bring his brother in tomorrow?"

The nurse, an older woman by the name of Carol, asked, "How old is he?"

"Dean's nine, but Sammy's doctor said he could come up." Bobby wasn't about to let them backtrack on the permission. He'd insist on bringing Dean up, and he'd throw his own fit over it if he had to.

"I'll check with the doctor and let you know before you leave," she smiled as she patted Sam's blanket-covered feet.

Bobby looked at the child sleeping somewhat peacefully. Sam looked so tiny in the bed, his hair splayed out and his lips softly moving, even though no sound was coming out. He knew that the doctors had already started giving him the medicines that would make him well.

He just hoped that they would work quickly, for the sake of both Winchester boys.