They all watched as Dean stormed into the bathroom and the door swung shut behind him. Andrew turned to Sam, who had a pained expression on his face, and he felt sorry for the younger man for having to deal with such a tempestuous temper that Dean seemed to possess.

"Well if that wasn't a display." Andrew mumbled and broke a piece off of his biscuit.

"Dean doesn't like to talk about Dad." Sam said coolly, unhappy with Andrew's previous statement.

"I can see that. Is he always that temperamental?" Andrew asked and he immediately knew that was the wrong thing to ask.

"My brother is a passionate man. And our dad is a subject that is very difficult for him to discuss, and what he said to you was the most honest thing he's ever said about our father." Andrew stopped with his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth.

"What he said was true?"

"Every last word of it." Sam said and took a deep breath willing his anger to simmer down, because any strong display of emotion on his part tended to open a back door for Hell to swoop in and overtake him.

"I can't believe that your father would leave you guys alone for so long that there wasn't enough food."

"You said yourself that you wanted to call social services on him. You can't be too terribly surprised." Sam said, trying not to sway. He was really fighting to stay in control and to not let Hell and Lucifer take him over. He looked to the bathroom door willing Dean to come out, willing Dean to sense his distress.

"I knew that he was moving you guys around all of the time, and I knew that he was obsessed with finding the phantom person that he swore killed his wife, and I wanted you two to go to a real school. But I never dreamed that he would leave you guys alone, that he would forget to have enough food in the house." Andrew shook his head and sat back in his chair. "No. I won't believe it."

"You can not believe it all you want." Bobby spoke up, taking over for Sam who looked like he was on the verge of collapse. "But it's true."

"If it was so true, why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you get social services involved?"

Bobby put down his glass of cola and turned tired angry eyes to the older man sitting next to him. Just as he was about to say something, Dean sat back down at the table, noted how tired and distressed Sam looked, realized that his gut had been correct and put a hand on the back of his brother's neck trying to stave off the inevitable space out and turned to their grandfather. "Because, Dad would have taken off with us and Bobby would never ever have seen us again. When Dad went to ground, he went to ground."

"D'n" Sam slurred distressed.

"Bobby I'm going to get him out of here."

"You do that son. I'll take care of the bill."

"Thank you."

"What's happening?" Andrew asked as he watched Sam begin to crumple, his mouth hung slightly ajar, and his eyes rolled around in his head as if he were a doll with googgly eyes.

Dean ignored his grandfather's question and began getting Sammy out of his seat and hoping that Sam's legs wouldn't give out completely before he got him in the car. "Come on Sammy, you can do this, you can make it. The car is just outside. Fight it little brother. Fight it."

"What in the hell is going on?" Andrew demanded again and stood up. Dean already had Sam's arm slung around his shoulders and had a death grip around his back, and he and Sam were already half way to the door, Sam's legs acting like rubber and barely holding his 6'4 Winchester frame up, his legs often crumpling under his weight and Dean holding him up steady as he could. The door closed behind the two of them and Andrew turned back to Bobby who was hurriedly asking the waitress for boxes for the untouched food Sam and Dean had left but were sure to want later.

"What in the hell is wrong with Sam?"

"You should ask Dean." Bobby said and finished scraping the last bits into the containers that had been brought out promptly by the waitress, and pulling out cash to lay on the table for the bill.

"That wasn't an answer."

"That's the most answer you are going to get out of me." With that Bobby was out the door and walking towards the motel that was no more than a block from Daisy's Diner.

Andrew hurriedly threw money on the table for his bill as well and followed Bobby out of the diner.

"I'm coming with you."

"Dean ain't gonna like that."

"He doesn't have a choice."

Bobby stopped and turned to the older man. A grin on his face. "There are things in this world that you should just leave alone sir. One of them is Dean Winchester when his little brother ain't well. He's worse than a momma tiger with a cub. He'll eat you alive if he thinks you are posing a threat."

"A threat? What?" Bobby shrugged and headed as fast as his legs would take him to the motel. The Impala's engine was still ticking when Bobby passed, and he pulled out a key card, knocked twice, announced who it was, and entered the room. Dean had Sam on the bed, wrestling him to get his coat off.

"Need help?"

"Please." Dean said softly. "You're okay Sammy. You're here with me. You are in a motel room safe and sound. Those are Bobby's hands on the other side of you, he's helping me get your jacket and over shirt off. Want to make sure you are cool. I know you don't like the heat." Dean spoke softly and soothingly as he pulled clothes off of his brother, pushed hair out of his brother's face. Once the coats and shirts were taken off, Dean laid his brother against the head board while Bobby removed boots. Dean put a hand on the back of Sam's neck, Sam's eyes were hazy and still googgly and a thin line of drool was beginning to stream down his chin.

"Bobby a wet washcloth please." Bobby nodded and hurried into the bathroom.

"What's going on? Is he okay?" Dean looked up angrily at the man who wanted to claim family.

"He's sick." He said and took the washcloth proffered and he began to wipe down Sam's mouth.

"I can see that. But what's wrong with him."

"Long story."

"I have time."

"Well I don't!" Dean snapped. "I have a brother to take care of."

Andrew's bristled at the younger man's impudence. "He's my grandson."

"And you're another absent male figure in our lives. You have no rights here. You can leave now. I have a brother to take care of and I don't need to babysit you."

"I'm not leaving." Andrew said and sat down in the chair next to the desk. Dean glared at him weighed his options, knew that he could either hurt his brother more by being tense and yelling at the man who had plopped his self-righteous ass in that chair, or he could will calmness to consume him and try to pour that calmness into his brother who was suffering in ways that Dean would never know despite his own time in the hotbox.

"Fine. Whatever." Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "Bobby we need to sit him up." Bobby and Dean, with an ease that demonstrated extended practice, pulled Sam's large body up against the headboard, and then Bobby retrieved the pillows off of Dean's bed, and as Dean arranged Sam's behind him Bobby added the others.

Andrew swallowed. He wanted to leave, but he had made such a big production out of staying…he was stuck watching his grandson fall apart.