When Dean wakes from his drug induced nap, Sam is sitting in the cozy chair reading and quietly watching over his brother. He just spent hours thinking about losing his brother again, and all the times he has lost Dean, and how human and fragile his brother really is.
"Good, you're up. I'll go get you some dinner." Sam is up from the chair and starting to bustle from the room before Dean's doing more than blinking his big green eyes sleepily. The older Winchester runs his hand over his face, mind heavy and still under the influence of opiates. He's trying to piece his thoughts together, knowing he was dreaming about the Goatman case and how to track the monster down.
"Sam, wait …" he gets out, but Sam shushes him like he's a fretful child before heading out the door. Dean takes being treated that way about as well as can be expected. He grumbles and wriggles himself upright balancing precariously on the edge of the bed, intent on getting up and following Sam. The younger brother sees the motion from the corner of his eye and whirls back.
"Get back in the freaking bed, Dean." Sam's tone is menacing and his face is set in an intense scowl. "You are not allowed to get up and undo all the good we've done in getting you better."
Dean narrows his eyes into a glare, and holds his brother's gaze as he starts to lower his legs to the ground. Sam swears and grabs him around the waist holding him upright for a beat before giving him a shake and lifting him back into the hospital bed. "No, Dean. You don't get to ignore me in this. You don't get to shut me out and stop me from helping you this time. You don't get to be Batman, or whatever crazy mixed-up thing you think you are every time you leave me to wonder if I lost the rest of my family."
Dean is bewildered. Sam's reaction seems a little overboard to him. He struggles to sit up again. "What the hell, Sam?"
Red-faced and shaking with emotion, Sam continues. "You treat your life like it's a frikkin' video game, Dean. You run around trying to accomplish every silly mission you come across like you've got extra lives waiting. And like my emotions are a yo-yo. You're dead – you're alive. You're in hell, or purgatory, and you won't even tell me about it. You shut me out. Well, if you won't bother to take care of yourself, I'm going to do it because you don't get to keep doing this to me."
Dean stares open-mouthed, and then he gets mad. "I've never left you on purpose…I've never left you for dead." But even as he says it, Dean pictures a time when he was young and a Shtriga almost got his brother because Dean wasn't where he was supposed to be. It adds a wobble to his voice.
Sam cuts him off. "Don't try to make this about me." He storms out of the room leaving his brother puzzled about what the hell just happened, and why the camaraderie they once shared seems so long ago.
After a little while Mary Grace comes in with food and toiletries. "Why do you let him get your goat like that?" Mary Grace asks Dean who is fuming about Sam being overbearing in making him stay in bed instead of letting him get up and be useful. The older woman is trying to help Dean get washed up and fed after another long day recuperating.
"What's that even mean? What's 'getting your goat' in English?" Dean sputters, tired, sore, and up to his eyeballs in frustration after his latest encounter with his brother. "I know you mean well, Mary Grace, but I'm too damn pissed off to decode what you're saying right now."
"Don't you be putting your back up at me, Honey. I'm just spectating at this rodeo. You and your brother lock horns over just about everything, and I was just wondering why you let him get to you like that?"
Dean's brow furrows even more deeply until she starts massaging his neck and he leans into her touch like a cat. She thinks she wouldn't be surprised if he started purring. It is heartbreaking to her to see how easily the slightest bit of positive attention calms this intense young man. She wonders how he can be such a heroic figure and broken spirit at the same time. And she wonders how his brother can care so much but always say the wrong thing.
"Whelp, if I remember rightly, 'getting your goat' comes from the way horse trainers use goats to calm thoroughbred race horses. If a rival wants an unfair advantage, all he has to do is steal the other guy's goat. Then his horses get riled up and lose the race. But, Sugar, you've got your goat parading around in the front yard with a sign on him advertising 'free goat' every time your brother's around."
Dean blinks slowly. "So you think I'm asking for it?" He struggles to remember Sam's and his latest argument to see if he can figure out if she's right.
"I think you two are fighting about purty much everything except what's really stuck in your craw." Mary Grace eases Dean back onto his pillow again unsurprised at the thoughtful look on his face.
"That's my brother, you know; I pretty much raised him. He is the best thing in my life, and he's the only thing I haven't completely screwed up. I don't get this – how we can hardly be in the same room any more." Dean chokes with emotion and grows quiet. "I'd do anything for him."
Mary Grace pats his good shoulder. "What you may need to do is let him take care of you a little bit. God knows you need it right now, even if you don't want to admit it."
Dean remains quiet, thoughtful, and in bed for the rest of the evening. But Sam doesn't come back in, staying away until Dean falls back asleep.
By the fourth day, Dean is determined to get up and Sam is still just as determined not to let him.
"You're not Superman, you know, Dean. You're not the man of steel, and I am not ready to lose you again so soon – or maybe permanently." Sam grouses at his brother.
"I get it, Sam. I'm not a hero in your eyes anymore. Note to self, feet of clay. But I'm doing better. Tell him, Mary Grace," Dean tries insisting, but Mary Grace and Ronnie decide emphatically to be Switzerland and refuse to take part in the argument. They do call Doc Witte to examine Dean.
Dean is displeased with the doctor's decisions, and Sam – who insisted on staying in the room to hear the verdict from the doctor's lips himself – gloats. Even though the doctor says Dean can lose the knee brace and the sling, he still isn't cleared to walk around. Doc says crutches are out because of the broken ribs, and because Dean cannot use his shoulder for maneuvering, nor should he hop on his knee yet.
As soon as the doctor leaves, Dean wriggles his way into sweat pants and a flannel shirt which he leaves open because the cast on his ribs won't let him button it. Using a borrowed motorized wheelchair, Dean carefully drives into the kitchen, refusing to admit that moving that much has reawakened all his aches.
Ronnie encourages him to go sit in the Carpenter Investigations office to read news reports, hack into traffic cameras, and become involved in the hunt for the Goatman. So it is Dean checking news accounts who comes across the sketch of himself on the Waco Tribune's website – labeled as a hero who rescued a local boy. A local television news channel has the same drawing but is calling him a possible vigilante who was taking the law into his own hands in the search for a child kidnapper. Both say he's wanted for questioning as a witness to the attempted felony.
"Pretty good likeness." Mary Grace can tell from his glare that's not what her patient wants to hear. She looks at Ronnie who gives a small shrug. They both expect what happens next.
"It looks just like you," Sam insists.
Dean snorts. "That looks like Chris Evans as Captain America. No frikkin way any cop is going to look at that and see me. Plus, they probably think the kid is just describing a hero. I'd be fine to get out there. I could monitor a path from the car or Ronnie's truck."
Sam peers over his brother's head at the computer screen. "Looks enough like you that it could be a problem, especially if we're anywhere near Lake Waco. Good thing you're stuck in the house recuperating anyway." Sam is a little smug in his pronouncement. He sees his brother narrowing his eyes and tries to change the subject. "What else did you find? Deputies still searching? Increased patrols?"
Dean shakes his head. "Looks like they are calling off the manhunt. We'll have to go after it ourselves."
It's Sam's turn to snort. "You aren't going anywhere, Dean. For once, you are going to let me take care of something myself because – believe it or not – I'm not your helpless little kid brother."
